Harry Potter and the Snakewood Tree
by OccasionallySlytherin
Summary: COMPLETE. Head Auror Harry Potter is sent to America to assist Captain Malfoy on a disturbing murder investigation. With events hauntingly similar to those leading up to the Second Wizarding War, the two must work together to stop a second Dark Lord from rising. HP/DM, Drarry, Harry/Draco slash.
1. A New Assignment

**Author's Note:**

Obviously no HP characters are my own, I just love them. So, here is my first attempt at a fanfic.

Cheers.

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 **Chapter 1:** A New Assignment

Harry Potter shifted his position quietly, verifying for the hundredth time that he was safely concealed behind some dilapidated crates. He and his team had been sitting in hiding for three hours, hoping to catch a gang of traffickers. He looked away from the overgrown field he had been watching to see if he could catch sight of another member of his team. About 100 meters away he could just see McDarrow's shoulder behind some molding hay bundles.

Another 15 minutes passed before a series of pops broke the evening silence, announcing the apparition of five people in heavy black cloaks. Harry slowly pushed his bangs out of his face, readying his wand. The figures below spoke quietly to one another, their wands also readied. Almost as if they were expecting -

Another pop and a sixth figure, the buyer, appeared a short distance away from the rest of the group. Now that all expected suspects were present, the anti-apparition spell should have been activated by one of Harry's aurors, sealing off the area.

"You're late," the familiar voice of the leader said. The response was evidently not what the leader wanted to hear from the newcomer, as she raised her wand to point towards the wizard. He raised his wand in response which prompted the rest of the original five to raise their wands.

Harry frowned. They had been tracking this group for nearly three years with covert and undercover operations, all coming to a head today. He needed this deal to happen so the ringleader would reveal where and how they concealed their headquarters. There was an old farmhouse on the property as well as assorted smaller sheds and the like, but none of them could house the operation they knew to be there; something had to have been magically shrouded. So far the buyer didn't seem to be doing anything other than antagonizing the leader.

As more words were exchanged, Harry adjusted the extendable ear he wore, trying to pick up more voices. It was a newer model they were testing thanks to the Weasley's; each person on his team was wearing one, and theoretically they should triangulate a network together and hear whatever was spoken in the center of their combined locations. It still needed some work.

Harry picked up some more words involving "galleons" and "agreement" and a flicked wand by the buyer produced a heavy bag that fell to the ground in front of the ringleader. With a slight wave of her wand, she looked inside the bag and appeared to be satisfied with what she saw there. Wands were lowered, and she walked forward to shake the buyer's hand.

The leader turned around and raised both her hands towards the open field and muttered an incantation. There was a slight glimmer in the air that lasted momentarily before what appeared to be a bunker materialized on the field. It was constructed out of a barn combined with muggle shipment containers.

The buyer walked up next to the ringleader. He was immediately surrounded by the four guards that had arrived with the leader initially. The leader reached out and touched the main door for the bunker. She must have uttered some spell or password because with another wave of her wand the door disappeared.

" _PETRIFICUS TOTALUS_!" Harry bellowed as he leapt out of hiding, queueing his aurors to follow suit.

The fight took maybe 30 seconds to resolve, ending with one auror stunned, and all six criminals body-bound. While Harry first made his way to the shipment containers, his aurors assembled the traffickers into kneeling positions. Harry looked inside the container, and sure enough, there were about twenty terrified muggles, tied together and chained to the walls. The shipping container wreaked of excrement and urine.

"McDarrow," Harry said quietly, "Please see to the victims."

"Sir."

Harry walked back around the group to stand in front of the gang members. Their faces were concealed with conjured white masks, not dissimilar from the Death Eater masks from ten years ago. All of the members were on their knees in front of Harry, bound and wandless. One of the guards was standing, his hand on the leader's shoulder, white mask now gone, revealing a young face.

"Good work, Tenley," Harry said to him. Tenley was a senior auror in the Muggle Trafficking department who had been working undercover for over a year. There was a grunt from the woman on her knees in front of Tenley, probably her only reaction to this reveal because she couldn't move.

"Thank you, sir," Tenley responded with a nod back to Harry.

Harry started on the left, working his way down the line. He flicked his wand at each gang member, dissolving their masks as he confirmed their identities.

"Jugson, Amycus and Alecto Carrow, Crabbe, Grayson, and LeDent."

Harry looked back at Alecto Carrow in the center of the group, the leader. Harry didn't know much about LeDent other than he was a trader, but he wasn't the one they were there for. Just an added bonus.

"Amycus and Alecto. It's been a long time," Harry said, standing in front of them. He felt a deep hatred surge, long dormant since the Battle of Hogwarts.

Amycus Carrow eyed Harry with a smile on his face, able to speak because Harry allowed it through the body-bind. "It certainly has, Potter."

"I understand you were attempting to expand your operation to America."

"Oh, Harry. We're not going to confess our plan to you," Alectro interrupted with a smile. "Once our lord is ready, you will understand."

Harry frowned. "Your lord?" He straightened, raising his wand cautiously.

"Yes. Our lord wanted to see you very much but he has more important work to do, so he couldn't be here today. Oh, we are to congratulate you on your recent promotion, however." She eyed Harry. "Head Auror, now. In charge of the Auror Department. Oooh, very impressive. Still doing field work, though, I see?"

Harry looked at Tenley who stood over Alecto Carrow's shoulder. "Take them to the ministry," he said, knowing they wouldn't get anything out of them here.

After a pause, Tenley said, "Sorry, sir." His hand emerged from his pocket clenching a small coin in his hand.

"Tenley, NO!" Harry shouted, whipping his wand up to stun Tenley, just missing him as he and Alecto Carrow vanished.

"Fuck!" Harry yelled. He looked at his other aurors. "Go!"

Each other auror, armed with their own portkey, activated them, returning back to the ministry with their captives.

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Well over a week later, Harry sat in his office, watching his quill dance across the paper as it added the finishing touches to his dictated report. They managed to bust the muggle trafficking ring, but only captured one of the siblings leading the enterprise. Harry considered this a failure as the sister would surely go to ground. The media and ministry for both the muggle and wizarding world on the other hand, were celebrating the end of the long nightmare of disappearing muggles. They considered it completely resolved as the aurors had discovered the headquarters of the operation and dissolved it. However, Harry couldn't forget that Alecto Carrow still remained free.

" _Our lord wanted to see you very much,"_ Carrow had taunted before Tenley port-keyed her out of range. Harry wasn't sure if Tenley was turned to the Dark or if he was under the effects of the Imperius curse, but either way, it was a blow to lose him from their department. He was a talented and hardworking auror.

Well, before he started taking orders from a former Death Eater, anyway.

Harry looked up to a knock on his door by his deputy auror. "Sir, the Minister wants to see you in his office," he said.

"Thanks, Trevor," Harry said, standing. He waved the parchment and quill back into a safety compartment in his desk. He glanced at the huge stacks of paperwork regarding their investigation that he had yet to parse through. He walked away from them, always content to leave paperwork for another time.

He didn't regret accepting the promotion to Head Auror, but he did wish it came with less paperwork and more field work. As Alec liked to remind him, he was almost 30 and knew that he couldn't run around catching former Death Eaters for the rest of his life. Harry felt the need to still remain connected to his work, which was why he insisted in participating in all major raids and operations his office executed. It irritated some of his Captains and senior aurors, but he felt it necessary to stay on top of his form.

On his way out the door, Harry paused for a reminder from Trevor regarding his 3:15pm press conference concerning the suspects they had arrested. His statements were already prepared, so he wasn't concerned about making it back from the minister's office in time. Entering the lift, Harry nodded to an archivist he had spent a lot of time researching with on a previous case. They exchanged pleasantries until the grate opened, allowing Harry to exit to the floor labeled in floating gold letters as: THE MINISTER'S OFFICES.

Harry made his way towards the minister's secretary and she waved him into the room without a word. Harry frowned a little, and knocked once on the heavy, dark redwood door. He felt a slight tingle of magic on his knuckles, the first test for entry.

"Enter," came the deep voice from within.

"Minister," Harry greeted as he opened the door, shutting it again behind himself. "You wanted to see me?"

"First off, Harry, congratulations again on your successful raid," Minister Shacklebolt said with a smile as he stood to shake Harry's hand.

"All thanks to my aurors, sir," Harry responded with a smile.

Seeming to decide that this was enough of a greeting for their meeting, the minister picked up a case file and considered it for a second before holding it out to Harry.

"I have an assignment I would like you to support MACUSA on." He gestured to the chair on Harry's right side. "You might want to sit for this one," the minister added, taking a seat himself.

Harry looked down at the folder, opening it to the front page. His jaw dropped slightly as he looked at the slightly-moving photograph clipped to the front page of the file.

He sat down.

"Sir," Harry started, still staring at the photograph, "when did this happen?"

"At the beginning of term at the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, September 27th."

"Why have I not heard of this before?"

"The Congress wished to keep it quiet until now."

"Death Eaters?"

"We have tracked none in Massachusetts as of yet." Shacklebolt gestured to the file again. "Keep reading. It gets better. Now, today is Friday, and I wanted to give you the weekend to get your personal affairs in order. You will find your ticket in there for a week from today."

Harry looked up at the minister and stood up. "Thank you, sir." He noted that the minister mentioned just one ticket and no options.

Alec is going to love this, Harry thought as he turned to leave the office, closing the door behind himself. As he walked down the hall back towards the lift he opened the file to look down at the picture again. It was a scene of a school hallway, presumably in Ilvermorny, that was eerily familiar to Harry. Written with a sticky-looking red substance on the wall were the words:

THE CHAMBER OF TRUTH HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE TRUE HEIR...BEWARE.

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Harry sat in his study, slowly swirling a glass of fire whiskey. It was well past ten, and he had been home for several hours pouring over the case Kingsley had given him. It appeared to be a pretty standard copy-cat situation, borrowing many significant events from the rise of Voldemort. It started the previous year with a series of murders, all with very similar MOs. Each crime scene had subtle differences, almost as if the suspect was testing something out, trying to perfect it.

Each murder featured a family of three in quiet respectable neighborhoods spread all over the New England region of America. Each setup was the same. A small two-story house was broken into, the father and mother murdered first, then the baby. The baby was always a boy, found in his crib, dead. Carved on each baby's forehead was a small lightning bolt.

Some scenes were modified - like the killer had murdered the family in different parts of the house but rearranged them so as to stage the events of a night that Harry still occasionally dreamed about. There were a total of eight murders spread over exactly one year, always on the 31st of the month, skipping the months that didn't include a 31st day. There were varied amounts of Dark magic detectable on the scenes, and it seemed clear that the murderer was probably trying to achieve something.

The first murder happened on July 31st, 2007, Harry's 27th birthday. The rest of the murders happened on the following 31st day of that month: August '07, October '07, December '07, January '08, March '08, May '08, and then finally ending with the last one in July, 2008, a year after the first murder. That was two and a half months ago from today, meaning he or she intentionally skipped August; Harry suspected it was because the killer had probably accomplished their goal.

Harry pushed his glasses up off his face with the back of his hand as he rubbed at his eyes. He heard the front door of the flat unlock and open followed by the clatter of keys falling into the dish by the door and a couple thuds as shoes and bags were dropped to the floor. Silence followed for a few seconds before he heard his name called up the stairs.

"I'm up here, Alec!" he called back, returning his glasses back in place.

Harry was sitting in his favorite stuffed chair in the corner of his study facing the door so he looked up when Alec walked in. "Hey, Harry,"he said as he crossed the room, leaning down to kiss Harry on the cheek. He was taller than Harry, with short well-kept hair, and an easy smile. "How was work?"

Harry closed his case file and set down his drink, settling back in his chair. "I need to talk to you about something."

"That never sounds good."

"Please, sit."

"Wow, that really doesn't sound good," Alec said. Harry smiled as he watched his partner sit on the couch opposite of him. He flicked his wand at the fireplace to light it, realizing it had gotten cold in the room as the sun had gone down hours before. Alec watched his movement, smiling a little.

Alec always liked when Harry performed magic. As a muggle, Alec had no idea the wizarding world existed until Harry entered his life, and still found all the conveniences of magic fascinating. It did make it rather difficult to explain to his muggle friends why they couldn't come over to their flat (which he said was always under "construction"), or why he never answered his cell phone at home (sensitive technology like that tended to malfunction around magic, but he explained this by saying he just didn't get coverage at home). They had been living together for over a year.

"The minister is sending me to America to assist on a case."

"For how long?" Alec asked after a pause.

"...I don't know."

Alec leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, threading his fingers together. "Where in America?"

"New England, I believe. Predominately New York state and Massachusetts, though I may probably travel as far west as Michigan."

"Can I visit you? I have always wanted to see New York."

Harry hesitated for just a second, thinking about a name he had read on the report sitting in his lap. He smiled. "Of course."

"What is the case? Can you you tell me about it at all?"

Harry looked down at the closed folder thoughtfully. "It appears as if someone wants us to think that we have a new Dark Lord on the rise," he said.

"Bloody hell," Alec said, leaning back. "Like Voldemort, right?"

Harry nodded, pushing his black bangs out of his eyes. "You will have protection from the Ministry while I am gone," he said, knowing full well that Alec would scoff at this, which he did.

"I guess that is what I get for being with the famous Harry Potter."

"This is serious, Alec."

Alec nodded, his smile fading slightly. "It always is. When do you leave?"

"The end of next week."

"When are you going to tell Teddy?"

Harry looked down at his file. He honestly hadn't decided. Harry knew Teddy would be off to Hogwarts in two years' time, but he had wanted to spend as much of that time with him as he could until then. Currently, he was with his guardian and grandmother, Andromeda Tonks.

Alec interpreted Harry's pause correctly as indecision. "Okay, I guess we should do something special this weekend then, hm?"

Harry smiled, watching Alec stand up. He walked over and gave Harry a gentle kiss before resting a hand on his shoulder. "Just come home safe to me."

"Always."

As Alec left the room, Harry's eyes landed on the framed _Daily Prophet_ article that Alec insisted they hang on the wall because he said it amused him. The paper featured the main article _THE CHOSEN ONE CHOOSES A MUGGLE by: Rita Skeeter_ which had come out shortly after the two of them were officially together. Alec liked it because it demonstrated that the wizarding community was more scandalized that The Boy Who Lived should end up with a muggle than they were concerned with him settling down with a bloke.

He looked back down at the folder in his lap, opening it. For the hundredth time he re-read the header on the case file. The file had been prepared and signed by lead American auror: Captain Draco Malfoy. Harry sighed deeply to himself, rubbing his eyes again.

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 **Author's** **Note** : Thank you to Amista and Tharshalaya for the comments!

After completing this story, I went back and re-read the whole thing, fixing errors, and closing a couple loose ends. It isn't perfect by any means, but I am pretty excited about it. It has a bit of a slow start, but I hope you like building crime dramas!


	2. A Journey West

**Chapter 2** : A Journey West

A week later, Harry found himself outside the John F. Kennedy International Airport in New York City. Upon arrival, he was told that two American aurors would be waiting to apparate him to the Woolworth Building, the location of the Magical Congress of the United States of America, or MACUSA. He found them easily enough, or rather Aurors Wiggs and Hedge found him easily, accompanied by a Congress clerk.

The taller auror (Hedge?) tapped Harry's trunk with his wand, explaining that it will be waiting for him in his rooms. The clerk stepped forward, taking over for the transportation of the luggage, floating it away. After Harry watched his luggage disappear through a side door, the aurors escorted Harry to the designated apparition point just outside the airport arrivals gate. With a pop, they appeared in a alley in lower Manhattan, sandwiched between skyscrapers.

Harry didn't have very much time to process his surroundings before he was steered into a black telephone booth nearly unrecognizable underneath layers of ancient graffiti. After the quick password ("Great American Muglumps") the lift lurched and began its descent, a female voice speaking above them, welcoming them to the Magical Congress of the United States, Head Auror Potter, and Aurors Wiggs and Hedge.

Aftering working at the ministry for a decade, Harry was accustomed to cramming himself into phone booths with complete strangers, not to mention two grown men, leaving very little space for himself. Apparently the taller of the two aurors wasn't as comfortable with this as Harry was, and cleared his throat awkwardly. "I didn't want to say anything at the airport," he began, not making eye contact with Harry. "But it is a pleasure to meet you, Head Auror, sir."

Harry looked up at him. He honestly wasn't positive if he was Wiggs or Hedge. "The pleasure is mine," Harry responded with a smile. The speaker was the taller of the two. Hedge. Harry was pretty sure.

"First time in New York?" The auror asked, trying really hard not to look for a scar on Harry's forehead.

"Yes, it is."

"Quite a bit different than London, I bet," the man responded. Harry nodded noncommittally. The other auror continued saying nothing.

"You should try the street tacos," the auror said awkwardly as the lift came to a stop, opening up to a grand atrium, decorated in black and gold.

Harry followed the two aurors who automatically flanked his front, guiding him towards the security checkpoint. Behind them were bays of fireplaces, very similar to those in the atrium of the British ministry. Grand columns lined their approach, leading up to a huge smiling portrait of who Harry assumed was the first magical American president, Josiah Jackson. The portrait hung above a series of doors which were the entrance to the Congress. They stopped at a podium and were asked to present their wands for identification.

"And, welcome to the Magical Congress of- Oh. Head Auror Harry Potter." The young wizard said, finally looking up from Harry's wand. He smiled, passing back the wand. "I believe the President wanted to see you as soon as you got in."

"We'll take him," Hedge said, smiling at the guard.

"Okay. You have clearance to head right up."

Harry had heard that, unlike his ministry, the American Congress building boasted the dual-occupancy of the magical community as well as the muggle-world. While somehow existing in the same building, the magical version extended to over a hundred stories. He suspected half of the floors were underground, much like his own ministry.

Harry thanked the wizard and followed his escorts to the inner atrium, lined with lifts taking the employees to various different levels of the building. They didn't stop at the first available lift, instead proceeding past empty ones to the lift third from the end on the left. Harry suspected this was one of many small defenses to protect the top brass.

When they entered, a small voice said: "Wands, please."

Harry watched the other two aurors produce their wands and hold them out, so Harry followed suit. It appeared as if the lift was satisfied with this as it started ascending at a quick pace.

"Destination?" The lift asked as they moved.

"Presidential suite, please," Hedge said.

"Presidential suite," the lift confirmed, coming almost immediately to a stop.

It occurred to Harry that he was still in his muggle travelling clothes which were hardly appropriate for meeting the President of another country's magical population. He paused, looking at Hedge. "Is there anyway I can change before meeting the President?"

"Oh! Of course, Head Auror, please, let's go to your suite first."

"Suite?"

"Yes, you are staying as a guest of the President for a few days here before heading to the field."

He nodded and followed the two as they diverted off to the side. They proceeded down a short staircase leading to a long hallway ending at a large birchwood door decorated with the same gold as the rest of the building. Harry noticed there was no handle on the door; it was probably charmed to permit only those with express permission by the occupants or the President herself.

"Your luggage will be inside," Hedge said, tapping the door with his wand which immediately swung open for him.

As Harry began to cross the threshold, suddenly Wiggs' hand appeared in front of him, pushing him back. Harry was forced to take a step back as the two aurors entered first, taking a quick visual sweep around the room before returning to Harry, nodding. Harry frowned as he watched them, then entered the room once permitted. He did not like how these two were acting more like bodyguards than guides.

It was a beautiful suite, swapping the typical gold and black of the rest of the building for gold and white. Translucent drapes were tied back to reveal floor-to-ceiling windows lining the western and northern side of the building, giving Harry a breathtaking view of New York City.

Harry heard a soft click as the two aurors shut the door behind themselves. He set out across the soft white carpet into the kitchen area that featured light blonde wood cabinets and hardwood flooring. The counters featured a white marble laced with gold, and glass doors on the fully-stocked cabinets. He walked past the kitchen island to head towards the stairs that lead up to an open loft.

Harry had never stayed in a suite like this before and it actually left him feeling rather exposed and uncomfortable. It appeared as if the President was eager to impress Harry, showing off the country's style and wealth. Harry smiled when he found himself hoping this country still had dingy hole-in-the-wall pubs.

Harry realized after changing into his official auror robes that the suite offered no fireplace. This destroyed any hope of fire-calling home privately to Teddy or Alec, not to mention leaving if he so desired. He eventually discovered a single window in the bathroom that did open a crack, perhaps allowing a very small owl into the room if he was lucky. Feeling a little claustrophobic, he went back to the front door of the suite and opened it to find the two aurors standing guard, as he expected.

"Ready, sir?" Hedge asked. As much as it bothered Harry that the man appeared to be his keeper, he still felt a little more comfortable around him as he was familiarly tall, freckled, and had short red hair. Harry nodded, wondering if the brown-haired shorter auror, Wiggs, ever spoke.

They progressed back the way they had come, tracing back up the stairs and continuing in the opposite direction of the lift. They stopped in a small atrium. Another wizard sat behind a receptionist desk and two aurors flanked the large, gilded double doors that led into the President's office. Both of the aurors nodded to Harry as he approached; Harry noted that one of them was trying to hide a prideful smile.

The doors opened inward for Harry as he approached. The room was vastly different than the rest of the building, covered in colorful, blooming plants in between glass furniture. Similar to his suite, the room was decorated in white and gold, but instead of blonde hardwood, every surface was made of glass. Even the floor below them was glass, making Harry feel as if he was floating over the strangely-white grass growing a few inches below.

The office was clearly enlarged magically, featuring two full walls of windows overlooking the city, a two-story tall domed ceiling (on which Harry could just make out the sound of rain pattering against it), a conference table off to the right, and a seating area off to the left. A large white tree with golden leaves was growing out of the center of the room, the roots of the tree descending below the glass floor into the white grass below.

A handsome middle-aged witch walked from around the tree, extending a hand towards Harry. He shook it, impressed by the strong grip the woman wielded. He was distracted only slightly by the sound of cameras clicking around them. "Welcome to America, Head Auror Potter," President Fontaine said with a warm smile. The woman reminded Harry a little bit of professor McGonagall in her severity and her inherent ability to command attention; she was not an individual to take lightly. She was no mere career-politician like Minister Fudge, but rather someone Harry could tell had been a career law enforcement auror prior to her election.

"Thank you, Madam President," Harry responded.

"Please, sit."

Harry followed her lead and went to sit diagonally from her on a glass loveseat while she sat on what was clearly the presidential chair at the head of the seating arrangement. Harry was surprised to feel the glass cushions conform to him sitting on it, behaving much like any soft fabric would. The seat was actually quite comfortable. Now that he was closer to the furniture, he realized that most of the glass furniture was not completely transparent, but had a bit of frosted look to them with the very occasional gold sparkle slowly swirling around inside. Impressed, Harry made himself comfortable and looked back up to the President after adjusting his robes.

The President was wearing a pale grey robe decorated with subtle green embroidery. She wore her salt-and-pepper hair short, another sign that she had some kind of military or auror background. Harry was embarrassed to admit he didn't really think to read up on the President's background before coming to America, but made a mental note to do so as he had a feeling he may be seeing a lot of her.

She waved away the photographers after enough photos were taken of them making small-talk about Harry's journey from England.

"Mr. Potter-"

"Harry, please," he corrected her with a smile.

She nodded and smiled back. "Harry, I appreciate you coming to help us with our present...situation. You have looked over the file, I trust."

"I have, Madam Pres-"

"Please," she said, raising her hand to interrupt him in return. "Call me Custa."

Harry nodded before proceeding. "I did look over the file. I was wondering why your aurors didn't request assistance sooner."

"You must understand, Harry, we are a proud country," she said with a smile. "Also, it did occur to our lead investigator that bringing you here might be exactly what the perpetrator wants. For this reason, I intend to see you as well protected as possible. I can't have someone such as yourself hurt on my soil."

Harry now understood the reason for the guards, lack of fireplace, and nearly impenetrable suite. He feared what other precautions she might planning. "You have already met Aurors Wiggs and Hedge," she continued. "They have been assigned to you for the duration of your stay. We also have prepared several safe-houses for you during your investigation, and we have fully briefed the investigative team on the paramount importance of your safety."

"Custa, with all due respect, I hardly think that will be necessary."

Her smile did not reach her eyes. "Harry, I must impress upon you a few key differences between our great countries. While here, you may find our no-majes significantly less…companionable," she continued after a slight hesitation, "than their English counterparts." Clearly she did her homework on Harry and his relationship with Alec. "We take the utmost care with the International Statute of Secrecy, and any breach of this will result in severe repercussions."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed. Some people still saw him as the 15-year-old boy, unaware of the cost of his actions, and very few things irritated him as much as that. Since the Battle of Hogwarts, he championed muggle-relations in conjunction with cleansing the corruption from the Ministry of Magic; he was no stranger to international politics. "I understand, Custa. Which is why attracting unnecessary attention to myself with an escort during an investigation would be detrimental to our cause. I appreciate your concern, but with all due respect, I operate on the ground _with_ my aurors, not safely tucked away in a bunker."

Custa considered Harry carefully. She was not taken aback as he had expected. He regretted being resistant, but he also knew he would be ineffective if he were as sheltered as she intended to make him. All-in-all, this wasn't how he wanted this meeting to go, but he felt he had to establish boundaries from the beginning.

"Very well, Harry," Custa said, standing. Harry followed suit. "I will merely assign Wiggs and Hedge to your team. Although you are permitted to operate in the field as you wish, I must insist you reside in designated safe-houses. This was also by Minister Shacklebolt's request, you understand."

Of course it was. "Of course, Madame President, I appreciate your understanding."

He could tell she resisted correcting him if her slight smile was any indication. "You will also understand if I request that while you are in New York, that you also do not wander alone in our great city. Before you head out to the investigation, accept the aurors as your guides. After that, they will be under your command as you wish.

"I am sure you are exhausted after your journey," she continued. "Would you please join me for breakfast tomorrow morning? After that our Head of the Auror Division will come collect you and you will later meet the lead auror investigating the case."

Harry nodded, taking her outstretched hand to shake once more before he turned to leave the office, the meeting clearly ending. She was not wrong about his exhaustion, as London was five hours ahead of New York. Harry was tired, but was eager to do a little more research before tucking in for the night.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Harry lay in bed, staring up at the too-tall ceiling of the loft. He should be exhausted, and he was before he returned to his room. But now, even after being awake for 20 hours, he just could not relax. His usual nightly routine of meditation helped clear his mind of his conversation with the President, but not the nagging feeling of being exposed.

He finally sat up and got out of bed. He still slept fully clothed out of habit, only occasionally swapping jeans for sweatpants. Even though there was no risk of a summoning in the middle of the night requiring him to rush off to work, he didn't consider changing this habit. It was the one thing that felt normal in the strange and large bed.

Harry grabbed his wand from his bedside table and walked down the stairs, looking around the living room. He opened a couple of the lower cabinets in the kitchen to consider the space inside. He closed them again, dismissing them as options. There was a small linen closet near the sitting area, and a China hutch near the dining room, but neither of those would do.

With a sigh, Harry headed back upstairs. After opening the armoire, he realized it was magically expanded, providing a fairly sizable space. Pulling a blanket off the bed, Harry crawled into the armoire armed with his wand, and curled up below the hanging complimentary bathrobe. Feeling more safe in a familiarly confining space, Harry Potter was finally able to fall asleep.

The following morning Harry woke early from a night wrought with nightmares. After showering and getting dressed, he knelt upon the thick carpet in front of the expansive windows, wand in hand. He relaxed his hands just to the point before releasing his wand as he focused on his breathing. In his concentration, his body lifted from the carpet just barely a centimeter.

Every morning he spent 20 minutes meditating. It was one of the few ways he had discovered in his early twenties that resolved enough of the anxiety in order to get out of bed. Hermione said he suffered from what muggles called complex post-traumatic stress disorder. He accepted what she suggested as fact because, well, one, she was Hermione, and two, he had experienced more than his share of stress not to mention trauma. She said it was considered "complex" because of his prolonged exposure to the trauma. Over the years, Harry had learned to deal with it on a daily basis. He was reminded to take time for himself and not be apologetic about getting overwhelmed. This was, of course, easier said than done when you were Head Auror.

There was a quiet knock on the door, but Harry didn't hear it.

The question was: would all his conditioning survive an encounter with one of the people responsible for so many traumatic moments in his life? Harry no longer blamed Draco Malfoy for the Battle of Hogwarts, nor did he think him responsible for Dumbledore's death, but the fact remained that Malfoy was a sort of phantom from his Hogwarts days. Harry understood that Malfoy's actions were made by a scared, cowardly boy raised in a hateful environment, trying to protect his cruel family. It was no wonder Malfoy moved to America immediately upon acquittal in order to escape the weight of his family name.

A louder knock startled Harry, knocking him out of his meditation. He realized his wand was pointed at the handle-less door and lowered it. He stood, adjusting his sweater as he did so.

"Come in," Harry called, moving towards the kitchen. The sun was just rising over the skyscrapers. It was probably 8 or 8:30 am. He summoned a glass from the cabinet as he turned on the faucet, pouring a little water.

"Good morning, Head Auror," Hedge said cheerfully as he entered the room. "How did you sleep?"

"Brilliant," Harry lied, leaning against the counter to face the taller man.

"Great," Hedge said, coming to a stop on the opposite side of the kitchen island from Harry. "The President was unfortunately called away on government matters early this morning so she is unable to have breakfast with you."

Honestly relieved, Harry let out a little sigh which Hedge misinterpreted as disappointment. "Don't worry, sir," Hedge continued, "she regrets it fully and is looking forward to a more congenial conversation with you in the future."

"It's no problem," Harry said, internally embarrassed that he was still reluctant to use the man's surname. "What of the Head of the Auror Division who I am to meet with today? Is that still on?"

"Yes, sir, he should be available in a few hours."

"I would like to get to work as soon as possible," Harry said, setting down his glass.

"Oh, of course, I'll be sure to get a message to him straight away."

With that, Hedge turned to begin to leave, but Harry called out to him. "Wait. What is the best way to send a message to my family?"

"Oh, owl, sir, of course. I believe there is parchment there in the desk," Hedge said, indicating over towards the sitting area. "If you want to leave any letters with me, I'll be sure they go out for you."

"Thank you," Harry said, leaning away from the counter as Hedge took his leave. Harry walked over to the aforementioned desk and sat to compose several letters, one each to the minister, Alec, Teddy, Hermione, and Ron.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It wasn't until well into the morning and after Hedge brought Harry breakfast that he was summoned to meet with the Head of the Auror Division, Albert Limus. He was escorted by Wiggs and Hedge to the lift and down to the atrium of the Department for Magical Security. From there, Harry noted a directory, describing the various departments contained within the Department for Magical Security including the Auror Division, the Major Investigations Department, the Department of No-Maj Misinformation, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the Surveillance Wizarding Resources Department to name a few.

Harry could begin to see the animosity that the President had mentioned regarding the relationship between muggles (or no-majes) and the wizarding community. It seemed rather unnecessary and smelled too much like pure-blood family politics. Thankfully, much of that stigma in Britain had faded during the years after the defeat of Voldemort in Second Wizarding War, but clearly that didn't stretch across the ocean.

Harry's meeting with his American counterpart was tense yet largely uneventful. It seemed to Harry that Limus was offended that Harry had been asked to assist in the investigation, almost as if Harry was challenging the office intentionally. Evidently it was actually the Director's idea to bring Harry in, meaning that this investigation was much more worrying than anyone really cared to admit.

Harry did what he could to appease Limus, though he by no means allowed him any control over Harry's participation. He made it clear that he was only there to support in whatever capacity possible, not take over the investigation. They parted with an amicable shake of the hands, so Harry believed that confrontation resolved positively on both sides.

As blissfully distracting the meeting with Head Auror Limus was, Harry was once again forced to prepare himself for a meeting with his old school-yard rival. It was strange to him how unaware the American Congress seemed to be of their previous relationship, but he was thankful no one questioned him on it. Even before leaving London, all Shacklebolt did was raise a questioning eyebrow at Harry which he brushed off easily. He was a professional, and assumed that Malfoy would be able to act like one as well.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Draco stood in one of the smaller 56th floor conference rooms, hands clasped behind his back, gazing out the window at the city below him. Once he heard from the Director that Harry Potter was traveling to America to assist in his investigation, he did all he could to prepare for the encounter. He read everything he could find about Potter's current situation so that he would encounter no surprises. He poured over his own case files a dozen more times to be sure he remembered every single detail. Draco could not let Potter best him at his own investigation.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to focus. This was no longer a competition. The last time Draco had seen Potter was at his own trial; Potter had testified in favor of Draco, arguing that he hadn't actually personally killed anyone. He argued that Draco had acted out of fear and desperation and was not an ongoing threat to the wizarding community. Draco hated that he owed Potter his life and freedom because of his acquittal, not to mention that of his mother's as Potter had also testified in her favor. Draco's father, however, was banished to Azkaban without Potter's support, and died shortly thereafter. Draco had no doubt that without Potter, he and his mother would be in Azkaban as well.

He opened his eyes. He had a new life now, and he must not forget that. He could compartmentalize his fear of inferiority and regrets of the past, focusing instead on the matter at hand. He had worked tirelessly to overcome whatever shadow had followed him to America, and had so far successfully proven himself worthy of his title as Captain. No Chosen One was going to take that away from him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Harry knocked once on the door to the conference room before pushing the door open. He entered quickly, shutting the door behind himself, once again dressed in his official Head Auror robes. Malfoy's eyes quickly swept up and down Harry's appearance, his eyebrow just slightly raised. Harry felt slightly overdressed.

"Captain Malfoy," Harry said, holding out his hand to Malfoy who had crossed the room around the table to meet him.

"Head Auror Potter," Malfoy replied calmly, taking his hand and shaking it. Malfoy wore a fitted dark grey jacket over a white shirt and dark grey slacks, similar to what Harry remembered him wearing towards the end of their time at school. The major difference was that now Malfoy's jacket also featured markings consistent of his rank and his badge declaring him a Captain of the Major Magical Crimes Division of Aurors. His white-blonde hair was also longer, pulled back into a low ponytail in a way that reminded Harry uncomfortably of Lucius.

"It's been a while," Harry said, gesturing for Malfoy to take a seat at the table as he pulled out a chair himself. Harry saw Malfoy's eyebrow twitch just slightly, indicating his annoyance at Harry inviting him to sit at what Malfoy probably considered his table. Harry decided not to worry about stepping on his toes this time as he did technically out-rank Malfoy despite being very far out of his jurisdiction.

Malfoy walked back around the table to pointedly stand opposite of Harry who was now sitting.

"I take it you had a chance to look over the file?" Malfoy asked, ignoring Harry's previous comment and gesture.

"Of course. How can I help?"

This question seemed to catch Malfoy off guard as his eyebrow rose a little further. "My Head Auror thought you could provide...insight to the case and perhaps help us determine the perpetrator's next move." Malfoy remained standing, arms crossed.

"What do you think the motive is?" Harry asked calmly, both hands on the table with his fingers laced together.

"I suspect he or she is attempting to gain the same notoriety as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And by trying to reenact the crimes done to the Potter family," Malfoy continued calmly, "the perpetrator is attempting to accomplish something mostly unsuccessfully."

"What makes you think they were unsuccessful?"

Malfoy paused to study Harry with partially lidded eyes as if annoyed. "Each crime scene was arranged after the murders, carefully composed with just slight tweaks, suggesting that they were experimenting with something, trying to get all the elements to fit perfectly."

"How does the perpetrator know what the original crime scene looked like?"

"That is unclear. We have explored the possibility that he or she immigrated from England and might have been to the original scene in 1981, but most of those suspects are either dead or imprisoned. There have been many retellings of the night over the years, but it is hard to say what is embellishment."

Harry nodded, this being what he expected. "We should start with the crime scenes. Are any of them still in tact?"

"The most recent two. The rest I saw personally so we can utilize a pensieve in addition to the crime scene photography."

"I still want to see the locations, even if just visiting outside."

Malfoy gazed at Harry for a moment as if trying to decide if he was being petulant. "As you wish," he conceded. "I must insist that we make our way to Ilvermorny sooner rather than later as it becomes increasingly more difficult to preserve the crime scene the longer we try to keep the students from it."

Harry smiled a little, having no doubt that Malfoy was correct. "Perhaps we should start there, then, and work our way backwards."


	3. Chamber of Truth

**Chapter 3** : Chamber of Truth

" _Harry Potter!" Dumbledore bellowed, his voice reverberating across the near-silent Great Hall. "Where is Harry Potter?"_

 _Harry felt himself stand then get pushed forward by his classmates. Students whispered behind hands and jeered him as a sinking blackness settled behind Harry's sternum. He made his way towards the Goblet of Fire, stunned and full of a dull dread._

 _Harry Potter!_

 _Did he put his name in the Goblet of Fire? Harry couldn't remember anymore. He was pretty sure he was targeted again, but no one believed him. Why would he want eternal glory or even more attention than he already had? He just wanted to be able to focus on his classes and quidditch._

 _Harry Potter!_

 _All he could hear was Dumbledore calling his name, asking him if he had put his name in the Goblet. Even Dumbledore didn't believe him and he was supposed to be on his side. Why wouldn't they believe him?_

 _Harry Potter!_

 _He remembered seeing grey eyes watch him cross the Great Hall, full of superiority and contempt. Suddenly everyone seemed to have grey eyes, glowing at him in the slowly darkening Great Hall. That door to the Champions' waiting room seemed eternally far away._

 _Harry…!_...Potter?

Harry's eyes snapped open, wand immediately in hand. He was curled up in the armoire of his suite, covered in a film of sweat.

"Head Auror, sir?" Hedge called again, a hopeful timidness to his voice. Harry could hear him walking cautiously back down the stairs from the loft.

Harry gently pushed the door open of the armoire and crawled out as quietly as he could. He moved over towards the upstairs bathroom so he could appear to have just emerged from there. Thankfully, Harry had learned to be stealthy over his years as an auror since he really didn't want Hedge to know he slept in the armoire.

"Hey, sorry, I was in the bathroom," he announced when he felt he looked convincing enough.

Hedge spun around on the step he stood on, eyes a little wide. He was clearly terrified he had managed to lose Harry Potter despite all the securities they had in place. His eyes flicked from the bathroom (which he had almost assuredly checked), to the bed (which was clearly not slept in), then back to Harry who looked rather nonplussed.

"What can I do for you?" Harry prompted casually, crossing to the armoire that he definitely hadn't just been sleeping in. He grabbed the bathrobe, trying to imply that he was going to shower.

"Uh, the President meant to give you this when you were to have breakfast together." Hedge moved towards Harry, holding out a heavy white envelope.

"What is it?" Harry asked unnecessarily as he opened it. Inside was a large sum of dragots, American wizarding paper money. "Oh."

"Yeah, they went ahead and converted part of your stipend to dragots to give you time to open a new US account," Hedge explained.

Harry frowned, thanked Hedge, and pocketed the envelope. Open an account? Exactly how long did they expect him to stay here?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Three hours later, Harry was packed and escorted back to the atrium of the Congress. Upon arrival, he was able to immediately pick out the tall, slender blonde waiting for him and his entourage.

"Head Auror Potter," Malfoy greeted formally.

Malfoy was wearing his official navy blue auror travelling cloak. Harry liked the American design; it looked much more militaristic than his crimson British version (the regular British auror cloak was brown, but Harry's rank earned him a red one). Both styles were of course nicely fitted and clean-cut, but while the American cloak featured silver accents the British sported copper.

"The headmaster is expecting us," Malfoy said as they began walking towards the bays of fireplaces. "Professor Fontaine has been headmaster for just about five years now," Malfoy explained as they walked. "After viewing the scene, I expect you will want to interview him again regarding the event and the students."

"Your report mentioned two students who are suspects," Harry prompted.

"As you read in my report, both are seventh-year Horned Serpent students." Malfoy paused as he glanced at Harry, expecting a scoff or snide comment about Slytherin, though he received none. He continued: "The reason the headmaster forwarded their names is their proclivity for the Dark arts."

"I don't remember your report mentioning much about Dark arts at the scene."

"That's because there wasn't," Malfoy responded. "We are considering the possibility that the event is unrelated to the 31st Murders, but that seems unlikely. It is too coincidental."

"What do you think about the students?" Harry asked once they twisted through the fireplaces, landing safely in the headmaster's waiting area.

"Classic bullies who would love to take credit. They don't line up."

"Interesting," was all Harry could respond before the headmaster's door was opened by a middle-aged man wearing a soft golden robe. It wasn't until Harry saw him that he connected his last name with that of the President. The two were clearly related, probably siblings.

"Headmaster," Malfoy greeted, stepping forward. "This is Head Auror -"

"Harry Potter," the headmaster finished for Malfoy, reaching out to shake Harry's hand with both of his own. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Never thought I would have the honor. Unfortunate circumstances, however."

"Indeed," Harry agreed.

"This is Auror Wiggs and Auror Hedge," Malfoy continued, indicating the other two aurors. Harry missed which was which again and inwardly cursed himself.

He followed Malfoy inside the office when the headmaster beckoned them to follow him inside. "So you have been here for five years?" Harry asked politely.

"Oh, yes, but it feels as if it has just been five days. Children grow so quickly, you see."

Harry smiled politely, his last weekend spent with Teddy and Alec flashing through his mind. "Headmaster, I was hoping you could tell us about any other events that have happened at the school that may be out of the ordinary since the term started."

The headmaster sat back behind his desk. Harry felt a chair nudge him behind his knees, urging him to sit in it. With a glance back at the chair he sat after seeing Malfoy do the same in his peripheral vision. The other two aurors walked calmly around the room pretending to look at the items in the glass cases that lined the walls, but were really studying the headmaster.

The interior of the office was similar to the Hogwarts headmaster's office. The desk in front of them was a massive blocky oak desk, a vision of utility and durability. Much like the other furniture in the room, it had a handmade feel that was weathered with age. It lacked the complex decoration McGonagall's furniture featured, as did much of the masonry of the castle, in fact. There weren't nearly as many trinkets in the glass cabinets, but considering Hogwarts had a good seven hundred year's headstart on the younger school, that wasn't too surprising. Harry imagined they might never had seen a headmaster like Dumbledore, either.

"Other events, you ask? Well, I don't know what you mean. Let's see, the beginning of the term was quite normal. No students missing or out of line. Our professors all attended like normal."

"Do you have any new professors or staff this year?"

"No, same as last year."

"Hm. Do you have any idea what the 'Chamber of Truth' may be that the suspect is referring to?"

"No, Mr. Potter. I am familiar with the...situation at Hogwarts, and the referenced Chamber of Secrets, but to my knowledge, nothing like that exists at this school." The headmaster shook his head and continued: "Rest assured, the moment the message appeared we searched the halls thoroughly and found nothing."

Harry nodded, expecting this. "Do you mind showing us the crime scene?"

"Of course, Head Auror." The man stood again, leading the four of them out of the office.

As they walked through the hallways, Harry asked about the school's history. Founded by an Irish immigrant and her muggle husband in the mid-1600s, the first headmaster created the school to teach magic to all children equally. She was known commonly as Morrigan, but her real name was Isolt Sayre, her husband being James Steward. They had four children.

As they moved down the halls, Harry listened idly to the headmaster, mostly paying attention to the navigation of the hallways. Ilvermorny had the distinct feel of a classic Venetian castle combined with that of an old English country house. Harry could see how this expansive building might have inspired American plantation mansions in their massive grandiosity.

Upon arrival at the scene, Harry stopped short. It was nearly identical. Torches on the walls framed the words clearly written in dried blood: 

THE CHAMBER OF TRUTH HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE TRUE HEIR...BEWARE.

Harry stepped over the spelled crime tape, walking up to the wall. He looked down to the left. Where Mrs. Norris had been hanging, paralyzed, there was nothing but a puddle of blood on the floor. "The cat was dead." It really was more of a statement than a question.

"That's correct," Malfoy confirmed.

Harry grunted, looking up and down the hallway. "Was there any flooding?"

"Flooding? I don't believe so," the headmaster responded. Harry looked at Malfoy who looked slightly confused. He must not remember. Harry wasn't entirely sure how much knowledge about the attacks made it to the general population, but he knew for certain that Mrs. Norris had survived only because she had seen the basilisk's eyes reflected in the water.

"How was the cat killed?"

"Modified _diffindo_ charm," Malfoy offered.

Harry looked at him. They must have performed the autopsy and investigated the scene further since his report was created. "Not a knife?" From the photos alone, and no autopsy report, he had assumed the MO carried over from the 31st Murders.

Malfoy shook his head. "It was pretty violent." Harry nodded. _Diffindo_ wasn't a very powerful charm, intended only for fabric and the like, so the person must have meant real harm if they were to kill something. It was like trying to kill someone by cutting with common muggle scissors or by papercuts.

"No other victims yet?"

"Yet? Oh, dear, no," the headmaster said quietly.

Harry turned away from the wall to look at Malfoy. "Was there any evidence of paralysis?"

"Yes. From what we could tell the cat didn't struggle," Malfoy said quietly. "We cannot detect any spells other than _diffindo_ on the victim, so we assume that the paralysis was via a potion."

"Interesting. Well, we are not dealing with a basilisk at least," Harry said diffinitively. "Headmaster, I encourage you to have your potions master take more regular inventory of their potions supply and place extra protections on the storage room. An another attack will happen."

They talked for a little while longer before Harry turned to Malfoy, indicating he was ready to leave. Malfoy nodded and they thanked the headmaster for the brief tour. Harry suggested Malfoy call in extra aurors to keep watch over the school, which the headmaster reluctantly to. Malfoy planned to owl the Congress as soon as they got back to town to recommend the additional defenses.

Once they were outside the school grounds, they apparated back to the small wizarding town of Berkshire at the base of Mount Greylock, the summit of which hosted the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The town was very similar to Hogsmeade, with cobblestone streets lined with shops and restaurants. It didn't take long to navigate their way through the streets to a residential stretch that culminated in an empty cul de sac. Malfoy continued past the last house and into a little gully positioned right before the forest started.

Malfoy stopped at a large tree at the edge of the forest and tapped his wand on it twice in the center of two different knots while whispering something. The tree shuttered a little and Harry watched as the bark started to peel away, much like the bricks folded back to reveal Diagon Alley. Once the tree split open, they saw that there was actually a cottage in the clearing, completely invisible behind the tree unless you looked through it.

"The password is _pure-blood_ and we will change it every 24 hours," Malfoy explained. Harry resisted rolling his eyes, the password clearly a jab at the old days. He followed Malfoy through the tree to the safehouse beyond. The cottage was of a decent size and cabin-like in its construction out of logs and masonry. It had a porch with long eves that wrapped around at least half of the ground level, and a large chimney coming out of the center. It was partially built into the hillside, so the lower floor was really more of a daylight basement.

They walked up the front steps to the porch and front door. "You can't apparate directly into or out of here," Malfoy explained. "It is of course shielded from Muggles and wizards alike." The house probably had many of the same enchantments on it as 12 Grimmauld Place or the campsites Hermione and Harry used while hunting horcruxes.

"Brilliant," Harry said, opening the front door. Predictably, Wiggs immediately pulled Harry back, forcing him out onto the porch and entered in front of him. Malfoy rolled his eyes, and entered without waiting for an all-clear. Hedge glared at Harry to not move until Wiggs signalled it was okay to do so. Once he did, Harry entered.

The cabin looked comfortable enough. There were rugs covering the hardwood floors and a large butcher-block style wooden kitchen table dominating what was the dining room. A large central fireplace was partitioned to heat the square house, feeding into bedrooms located both on the ground and basement levels. It also heated the living and dining room they stood in now, as well as the living room downstairs. The kitchen was an offshoot from the dining room area and was already fully stocked. It looked like a classic wizard kitchen with very few appliances save a stove and a refrigerator.

Harry claimed one of the upstairs bedrooms, not noticing the quiet battle that happened outside his room. Hedge was arguing with Malfoy that he or Wiggs should be in the bedroom next to Harry for his protection, and Malfoy should take one of the lower bedrooms. Quite offended that a Malfoy would sleep in a basement, he snarled an agreement that he would 'protect' Harry if need be and that Hedge was not to worry. Reluctantly, the other two aurors went downstairs to make themselves at home.

Once Harry emerged from the bedroom, he had changed into jeans and a dark red t-shirt, carrying his briefcase and files. He silently started to setup their command station, rearranging or transfiguring the furniture so that the table would provide most of the desk space, with a nearby wall functioning for a magical pinboard of associations. He moved chairs out of the way just leaving the benches if they wanted to sit at the table. There was a small breakfast nook in the kitchen that sat four people, so if they needed somewhere to eat, they could eat there.

Having also changed into a black long-sleeved v-neck shirt, Malfoy exited his bedroom and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. "Do one of your lackeys cook, Potter?"

Harry glanced back at Malfoy. "How am I supposed to know? Ask them yourself."

Malfoy scoffed, looking over at the kitchen. "Let's go eat in town then we can finish setting up here."

Harry paused what he was doing and nodded. He was pretty hungry now that he thought about it, and wasn't in the mood to cook. He wasn't about to ask anyone else to do it for him, so it made sense to eat out. "Pub?" he asked Malfoy.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and grabbed his jacket.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Alright, Potter, it occurred to me you should tell me all of what happened during...our second year." Draco did not want to broach the subject of their school days, but he knew it was crucial he know any details that weren't public. Now that they had finished eating, it seemed an appropriate time to ask.

They were sitting in the town tavern called the Locksback Bar. It was relatively close in feel to the pubs back in London with the wooden architecture and oil lanterns. Draco thought Potter looked visibly more relaxed when he had ungracefully slid onto the hard wooden bench of the booth in the corner of the establishment, fire whiskey in hand. Clearly more comfortable, anyway, than the small cafes they had visited briefly in Manhattan.

It took four drinks for Potter to get through the story of what happened in his second year at Hogwarts. Draco was a little surprised; he knew now that his father had something to do with the chamber opening, though he knew very little at the time. It was rather surprising that Potter had not immediately confronted Draco about what his father did, blaming the whole year's events on him. If Draco had been in Potter's shoes, he would have told the whole school about the actions of his father, aiming to shame and outcast him.

But then again, they were very different people, especially back then.

Draco sat quietly, contemplating the story while slowly rotating his now-empty glass between his thin, pale fingers. He looked back up to see Harry watching Draco's hands as well. Their eyes met. Potter cleared his throat, looking away, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks. Stupid man got himself drunk.

"Well, clearly Ilvermorny doesn't have a Chamber of Secrets like Hogwarts does," Draco said. "But the Heir has to be referring to something specifically as the Chamber of Truth." Rather unoriginal naming, if you asked him.

"Let's avoid calling them 'the Heir' for now. Especially to the press," Potter said. "The person is clearly seeking attention, and that would only encourage them."

Draco nodded once, irritated. "The _perpetrator_ , then. I have looked over the schematics for the building and have not been able to determine any potential entrances to any hidden chambers."

"Perhaps when we visit those two Serpent boys, we'll see if the school has its own Fred and George," Potter said wistfully. Draco wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but grunted anyway. He preferred to steer clear of any mention of the dead Weasley twin. Although Draco didn't care if Potter liked him, he had no interest in starting a full-fledged fight just yet. Their silence was tense and quite awkward.

"Why Ilvermorny?" Potter asked suddenly, looking across the table at Draco. "Simply as a surrogate for Hogwarts?"

Draco shrugged, feeling annoyed about the question. "It is the only school in this country."

"No, it has to be more than that. Riddle was obsessed with- with- the founders, and magic, and power, and eternal life," Potter listed, counting each item on his hand with a finger. "He wants us to _think_ he is just like Voldemort, but I really don't think he is."

Draco glanced quickly around the tavern, hoping Potter wasn't drawing too much attention to them by referring to the Dark Lord by name. He saw Potter's two auror guards sitting at a nearby table drinking butterbeers in silence. They, at least, were clearly paying attention to Potter, though it seemed like no one else was.

Potter didn't seem to notice and was still infuriatingly blase about saying the Dark Lord's full name. Draco knew he was nothing more than a boogeyman now, but he was still a powerful one. "Clearly he isn't You-Know-Who, Potter. What is your point?"

"Why Ilvermorny?" Potter asked again as if not hearing Draco. He was looking at his glass. "The school must have some connection to Voldemort."

Draco shrugged. "Or they could have no connection at all. This whole reference to Hogwarts could be a giant red herring. Some person playing out their own grandiose fantasy of what it would have been like fifteen years ago."

Potter was quiet, looking down at his empty glass, contemplating Merlin-knows what.

"Look, its late, let's pick this back up in the morning," Draco said. "We'll head back up to the school after breakfast and see about meeting with those kids." Potter nodded and they stood. Hedge and Wiggs stood as well, taking it as their queue that they were leaving.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The next morning Draco took Potter back up to Ilvermorny in order to speak with the two suspicious students after a quiet and awkward breakfast in their shared safehouse. Potter had only gotten tipsey the night before but was clearly embarrassed. Draco decided not to nettle him about it for now, but rather save it for a more appropriate time. Patience was always the best policy.

When going to find the kids in question, the headmaster led them outside the grounds and headed towards the quidditch field. Draco noticed Potter's brief wistful look up at the players before looking straight ahead once more. Draco still didn't understand Potter's relationship with school, or understand why it appeared to both delight and sadden him.

They passed a strange overgrown tree with thick, wavy white bark and wilting leaves. It wasn't until they were fully past it that Draco realized Potter was no longer walking with them. He turned around to see him staring at the tree, his hands resting in his robe thoughtfully. The trunk was probably two feet thick with huge roots disrupting the ground below it.

"Ah, yes, our snakewood tree," the headmaster said, taking Potter's interest in the tree as being impressed. "Rare trees, they are. Extremely difficult to grow, but even more difficult to kill. They say that this tree was grown from a part of the tree from which Salazar Slytherin fashioned himself a wand."

Potter made a strange noise which caused Draco to narrow his eyes. So what if Slytherin used wood from a tree like this one? Most myths were grown from half-truths, intended to bring notoriety to a place or person anyway. The likelihood of this being true was slim.

Potter finally turned to silently follow them back towards the quidditch field. Draco mused Potter's interest in the school and tree could still be an artifact from his muggle-world days, easily impressed by anything magical. Otherwise, there were plenty of trees that wandmakers used, so he didn't see why this one would be so special.

Once at the field, the three stood waiting for the students to finish whatever play they were executing. They returned to the ground, surrounding their team captain for a review of their exercise. Leaving Potter and Draco off to the side, the headmaster moved forward to pull the two students in question from the group. The headmaster introduced the kids to Potter and allowed him to speak with him for several minutes before excusing them back to practice. The only interesting part of the interview to Draco was that once the two rejoined the quidditch team, he heard the boys tell their friend who it was that they had been talking to. After mentioning the name 'Harry Potter,' one of the younger students piped up: "Who's that?"

Another one replied, "Seriously? Don't you read?"

It was refreshing to be on a different continent, removed from the past with a new population harboring no concerns for history or war.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 _April, 2005_

Harry, flanked by two of his aurors, walked quickly through the halls of the muggle police station, led by the Commissioner of the City of London Police. The Commissioner didn't know that Harry was a wizard, but believed him to be from the National Crime Agency, there to take over the investigation of a case because it had crossed city lines. In truth, Harry was there because what the Commissioner believed to be a case of serial kidnappings was actually a facet of the larger muggle trafficking investigation Harry was heading.

Harry stopped outside the interrogation room and looked through the one-way window that provided a view of the occupant. Peter Kowalski sat at the table, his head in his hands. He was tall and fit, with light brown hair. He seemed relatively unremarkable for a muggle, but apparently had managed to escape four extremely dangerous wizards. Harry wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't that.

He opened the door, entering the room. Kowalski looked up at him. Distress was written all over his features and he had clearly been crying. "Mr. Kowalski, I am Senior Officer Harry Potter with the National Crime Agency." He held up a badge enchanted to show a muggle his muggle badge, or a wizard his proper badge.

"Did you find my sister?" he asked before Harry could even sit down.

"No, Mr. Kowalski, we haven't yet," Harry responded gently. "I was hoping I could talk to you about what happened last night."

"Right. Of course." Kowalski described the attack on him and his sister. They were coming home from a party at a friend's house who only lived around six blocks from their shared flat. On the way home, they were ambushed by several hooded figures. Kowalski managed to get away from them, but his sister had been taken. It was an identical story to many others with the difference being that Kowalski managed to escape.

After hashing out various details of the story, Harry had all he needed for his report. "We are going to have to put you in protective custody, Mr. Kowalski, okay?" Harry said.

The man nodded demurely.

"These people might come after you, so it is really important that you don't tell any of your friends where you are going. We're going to take you home now to collect your things, but then we are going to escort you somewhere else to safety. You'll get a new name for the time being, and some work if you wish to have it. Only myself and a select few other officers will know your location, okay?"

Kowalski nodded again, not looking up at Harry. Harry reached out and placed a hand on top of Kowalski's arm. "We'll do our best to find her, okay?"


	4. History Lesson

**Chapter 4** : History Lesson

Harry's dreams that night were filled with the sound of hissing and grey shapes, moving without form. He associated these particular dreams with his visions of Voldemort in the Gaunt cottage back in his fourth year. He remembered the old caretaker approaching the door quietly only to be killed by Nagini.

Just shadows moving in a room lit by a cold fireplace. And hissing.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Harry got up before the sun came up. Today they were to go to the 31st Murder scenes. They would travel by apparition to each one, though because many of them we no longer established crime scenes, Harry knew they couldn't stay long. Afterword, the plan was to visit the Congress to utilize a pensive to see the inside of the houses. They would start with the first murder scene, and progress to the eighth in this fashion.

Part of Harry's routine, even before his meditation, was a morning run. Alec teased him that it was a very manual, non-magical way to exercise, but it helped him plan his day while staying in shape. This town was pretty small, however, so Harry elected to go running on the outskirts, partially through the forest that eventually led up the mountainside. It was a cold morning plagued by a constant drizzling of rain, so the run wasn't as relaxing as it usually was. Harry also couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched or followed. He changed his direction suddenly many times, trying to get the distracting feeling to go away.

As he rounded a bend in the trail, Harry let out a surprised _incendio_ as a large python snake reared up over him and the trail. Harry's spell struck the snake just below the head, bursting it into flames. It took several more seconds for Harry to realize that he had just incinerated a fallen tree that was partially suspended over the trail.

"Potter!"

Harry spun around, wand raised again in a battle position.

Hedge came running up the trail, panting. "Sir, what happened?" he gasped, looking from the tree to Harry. He leaned forward to rest his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

"Bloody hell," Harry growled, glaring at Hedge. "Would you stop following me everywhere?"

"Sorry, sir, President's orders," Hedge responded apologetically.

More embarrassed than anything, Harry took off again, heading back in the direction of town. He was eager to get back into the privacy of the safehouse and pretend that the tree incident never happened.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The mist continued throughout the morning. Cloaks pulled tightly around them, the four men packed up their belongings and headed outside. When Malfoy held his right arm up to Harry to side-along apparate with him, Harry paused, looking at the extended forearm. He wasn't sure why he hesitated. Maybe it was because this somehow reminded him of the first time he had apparated on Dumbledore's arm.

"Potter?"

Harry looked into the grey eyes that seemed a little warmer than usual. It certainly was strange to find himself _trusting_ Malfoy if only slightly. Maybe Dark wizards could change, if Malfoy could have even been considered one. He hardly seemed devoted to the Dark now, but Harry still knew so little about him.

Harry nodded once, placing his hand on the extended arm. They apparated to a quiet part of Jamestown, Virginia. The town wasn't identical to Godric's Hollow by any means, but did have some noticeable English influences mixed with Native American and more modern elements.

Harry couldn't help but dwell on his last journey with Hermione to the sleepy town of his birth. He had avoided going back after that, the terrible experience with Bathilda Bagshot and Nagini lingering in his mind. It was Christmas Eve then, with snow on the ground. Now, it was late autumn with that irritating drizzle in the air. Maybe that was why it reminded him of England.

They walked along a dirt path in between some larger pastel-colored houses. They were heading away from the center of town, further into the suburbs. It was a rather idealistic-looking neighborhood, and probably would be a beautiful place come summertime.

Malfoy led them to a relatively small modern two-story house that looked like it had some recent renovations completed. As if reading his mind, Malfoy explained that part of the house had been rebuilt due to being utterly destroyed in the attack. A small white picket fence surrounded the property, and a FOR SALE sign still hung in the yard.

Apparently, in this attack very little Dark magic had been used with the exception of the Killing Curse itself. It was used only once and on the mother. Both the father and the baby's cause of death were from being brutally stabbed, the father while he was downstairs on the couch, and the baby upstairs, asleep in his crib. From the report Harry read, there was no sign of a struggle with the father, though the mother had been in the shower at the time of the attack and battled ferociously. It wasn't clear if the baby was a wizard, though it was likely as both of his parents were half-blooded.

Harry looked up and down the street, studying the surrounding area. Why this house? Why this town? He turned around and realized that there was an old cemetery on the opposite side of the road. He had seen his parents' graves when he had visited with Hermione in Godric's Hollow. Was it a coincidence that there was a graveyard here as well?

"Was the family buried here?" Harry asked, walking away from the house towards the cemetery.

"What? Oh, I am not sure. Maybe," Malfoy responded, perplexed by the question. He followed Harry towards the red bricks that marked the entrance to the cemetery. "Does it matter?"

"I'm not sure," Harry responded thoughtfully.

After another minute or two of wandering through the graveyard, Harry turned back to Malfoy. "I would like to see your memory of the crime scene now, please."

Malfoy nodded, holding his arm out to Harry to side-along apparate him. This time, Harry didn't hesitate.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The father, Bartholomew Patterson, lay on the couch, drenched in blood. Harry watched the memory-Malfoy pull on some crime scene gloves, studying the body after the photographer finished taking pictures. He reached forward, carefully lifting the front jacket panels to be able to better see the wounds. There were dozens of slash wounds to the torso, upper arms, and face. The deep wounds were not magically made, and if one were to immediately look upon the scene, it might not have even appeared to be magic-related at all.

That is if you didn't notice all the small papercut-like marks all over the clothing. Harry agreed with Malfoy's early assumption which the coroner also later confirmed; the major wounds were caused with a knife, then the _diffindo_ charm was used to execute the rest of the damage to the body while the victim was dying. It was gruesome and bloody.

Malfoy walked away from Mr. Patterson heading towards the upstairs. Harry watched him avoid the bloody partial footprints that occasionally marked the stairs, evidence of the father's murder. The remnants of a bloody handprint was on the right wall at the top of the stairs. It was impossible to get any fingerprints from it, however, as it was badly smeared.

Harry watched Malfoy stop at the top of the stairs, looking at the handprint. He mimed leaning against the wall using his right hand to brace himself on the wall hovering over the handprint. He adjusted his positioning several times, trying to piece together why the hand print was there.

"The perpetrator is approximately...170 to 175 centimeters tall and likely right-handed," Malfoy said to the deputy Auror who followed him around. He was recording Malfoy's observations as he moved through the crime scene. "He was still holding the knife in his right hand when he...tripped on the stairs on his way up?"

Harry watched Malfoy hop delicately over the top step almost as if catching himself from falling. "His wand must be in his left hand, but why use a knife when you have a wand?" Malfoy mused out loud.

Malfoy left the stairs and moved towards the bathroom, stopping outside to look at the scene inside. Warm July evening air blew gently through the massive hole in the wall where a window probably once was. "The shower must have been running because she didn't hear him enter."

The shower curtain was torn to shreds, wafting lazily in the breeze, hanging from the mangled curtain rod. The mother, Esther Patterson, was sitting in the bathtub naked, her legs hanging over the side of the tub, her back against the wall. She had clearly been knocked back by the Killing Curse, landing where she was. The most of the lacerations all over her body were post-mortem and her wand lie broken on the bathroom floor.

"He tried to cut her through the shower curtain but slipped. She fought back," Malfoy narrated, delicately moving about the scene so as to touch nothing crucial. "He slipped on the tiles due to the blood and moisture, maybe allowing her to get to her wand." He indicated towards bloody skid marks that could be from what he said. "Cause of death undetermined at this point, but I see no major knife wounds on the front of the victim."

After a few more moments of study, he left the bathroom, heading further down the hall towards the baby's room. "He is in a hurry now since the battle was so destructive." Malfoy entered the nursery and walked up to the crib. It was one single slash that gutted the poor child, killing him almost instantly. A quick job was made of carving a lightning bolt on the forehead before the killer fled the scene.

The memory became fuzzy. Harry felt himself get drawn upwards as the scene faded away around him. He looked up from the pensieve at the real Malfoy who was leaning casually against the edge of the desk with both his arms and his ankles crossed. His cocked eyebrow clearly asked: 'Well?'

"You are surprisingly...observant," Harry remarked casually, pushing bangs from his eyes and taking his glasses off to clean them with the edge of his t-shirt.

"That's it?" Malfoy asked dryly.

"No. Were you able to get a footprint from the blood?"

"Not a definitive one."

"How tall are you?"

"How forward," Malfoy drawled. "178 centimeters." Harry was about 173 centimeters, so that made sense as Malfoy was annoyingly a few centimeters taller. It made sense that he could guess the likely range of height for the killer.

"The next crime scene is in Virginia as well?"

"Yes, Hampton."

"Brilliant." Harry and Malfoy left the Congress again, Hedge and Wiggs in tow.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The next town and crime scene was very much the same as the first. Only, the mother was killed in the kitchen (probably with the baby) and the father in the bedroom. This time, the bodies were moved upstairs and arranged so the father was in the hallway, the mother at the entrance to the nursery, and the baby was placed in the cot.

There was still a lot of mutilation to the bodies with the exception of the baby this time. Both the parents were murdered with a knife, but it appeared as if the baby this time died by the Killing Curse. He had the same lightning bolt carved into his forehead.

There wasn't substantial damage done to the house this time, so they theorized that the killer had entered silently and slit the throats of his victims from behind so as to kill them quietly. It was interesting that he only cut the victims and did not stab them, as would be customary for this type of muggle weapon. This murder scene almost wasn't even classified as magical at first until the department caught wind from the muggle police that they couldn't figure out how the baby had died or why he had a lightning bolt on his forehead. This made Harry wonder if there might actually be more murders predating the July 31st one, and if the killer just didn't use magic until then.

They spent the next few days going from crime scene to crime scene. After they reviewed each scene, Harry and Malfoy returned to the safehouse to document the changes they noticed. It was clear that the more and more murders the killer committed, the more violent he became. While he made clear mistakes in the beginning, by the end he was a practiced executioner.

"The killer didn't actually use the Killing Curse for all three victims until Albany," Harry said as Malfoy took note on the board. "And I find it strange that it appeared to be on a muggle family."

"The son was probably a wizard," Malfoy said. There wasn't really any way to know until the son started to display magical capabilities but that usually didn't start until they were around three- or four-years-old. Malfoy took a step back to look at what they had compiled so far.

"So why kill them? Could these really be random families?" Harry asked.

"No way to know," Malfoy sighed, sitting down at the table across from Harry. There was a slight pause during which they both gazed at the wall, trying to find more connections.

"I think we should look into that snakewood tree."

"Potter, it isn't connected. It's just a tree."

"It's the only physical connection we have to Hogwarts, and it is through Slytherin. You really think that is a coincidence?"

"Yes, Potter, I do. The idea that Salazar Slytherin came to America to plant a tree, found a second wizard school, and build another secret chamber in it is preposterous," Malfoy retorted.

"That is not what I mean, and you know it. A decedent, an offspring: it is very likely that one of them could have easily come across during the seventeenth or eighteenth century-"

"Not everything is Slytherin's fault," Malfoy growled dangerously. "I thought the _Chosen One_ of all people would be the one to let old prejudices die."

"Might I remind you, Captain, that I am-" Harry began, standing up. He leaned forward as he spoke so both hands were placed on the tabletop. Malfoy leapt to his feet as well.

"Might I remind _you,_ Potter," Malfoy spat, interrupting Harry, "that _I_ am the lead investigator, and you are here only by the graces of the Head Auror!"

"And if I were your Head Auror, it would no longer be your investigation!" Harry yelled back.

Harry regretted the words almost the second they came out of his mouth. Malfoy's face immediately became vacant of all expression, a perfect slate of haughty boredom. Malfoy lifted his chin slightly, delicately tugging the front panels of his coat down so as to smooth out his appearance. He turned on his heel, exiting to his room with an impressive amount of dignity.

Harry sighed and sat back down, taking his glasses off to rub at his eyes. He knew he had been right and that Malfoy was far too resistant of Harry's suggestions. One had to be flexible in these cases and consider all the possibilities. It was reasonable for Malfoy to want to avoid blaming Slytherin again for the world's problems, but so far it seemed the most likely answer. Regardless of Harry's equally inappropriate reaction of threatening Malfoy, Harry vowed that he would not apologize. Malfoy would have to adjust his approach in order for them to work together.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"I am sorry," Harry finally said after about ten minutes of tense silence over their morning tea. "For what I said last night." Malfoy looked over at him with what Harry was pretty sure was a miniscule twitch of satisfaction. "What I was trying to say was that I encourage my aurors to consider all possibilities, even if the possibilities are remote," Harry continued, lightly glaring at his reluctant work partner.

Even the way Malfoy took a sip from his tea was smug and served as a quick reminder why he and Malfoy never got along in school. "I understand what you meant, Head Auror," Malfoy responded cooley.

Harry resisted snorting at the obvious return to formalities. It was a stupid way to punish Harry, but apologizing first allowed Malfoy to take the victim's approach. Harry decided to plow ahead so as to not allow Malfoy to gloat any longer. "Anyway, while you were sulking last night I discovered something interesting," Harry said, rummaging around in his briefcase looking for a new file he started. "I continued researching the Gaunt bloodline, Riddle's ancestors," Harry said, finding the file he was looking for. "Apparently one did come across at some point, though I can't find a record of how they got here, just that they died. A certain G. Gaunt. The only record is that of a headstone that was once existed near the Ilvermorny school." He showed him the article he had found.

"Once existed?" Malfoy asked delicately, glancing at the article with disinterest.

"It's location is now lost. Overgrown in the forest, likely."

"Hm."

Harry looked at Malfoy. Malfoy stared back.

"So we should go find it," Harry finally said.

"Really."

"Yes. Its called investigating."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, deciding not to argue the point. Might as well let this play out so he could say 'I told you so' at the end of it. They packed up what materials they needed and left to head back up to the school, Wiggs and Hedge right behind them.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Forest is a dangerous place," the groundskeeper warned ominously, stopping at the edge of the woods. "The rumors are that Gaunt was buried somewhere to the east of here, but I never seen it. Yer better off without it, if ya ask me. Creepy stuff happens out there."

"Like what?" Potter asked. Draco couldn't figure out why Potter would encourage the old bat.

"Oh, yeh know. Ghosts, trees that move to grab yeh, that sorta thing. Kids occasionally go missin'."

"Brilliant, thanks," Potter replied, marching off into the woods without a second thought. The woods here probably weren't any worse than the Forbidden Forest that sat outside Hogwarts, Draco reasoned. All sorts of nasty creatures lived there.

Three hours later, Potter finally conceded that they weren't going to find the gravestone that day, though insisted that they return to search later, and added that probably splitting up next time was better. Hedge looked like he was about to kidnap Potter himself to take him back to the sanctuary of the safehouse if Potter actually went through with that plan which did amuse Draco slightly.

Upon returning to the safehouse however, Potter did insist on furthering the research into the Slytherin connection. Draco decided to work more on the associations and connections between the towns and families. You know, actually important work.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 _September, 2005_

Harry made his way up the walkway towards the safehouse. Since moving Clarke (formerly Kowalski) to Ireland, he had picked up the habit of visiting him about once a month to check in. Clarke was always interested in news on the search for his sister, and Harry found he preferred to just visit to inform him, a habit he had with many victim's families.

"Harry!" Clarke called through the open cottage door. It was warm out, and Clarke had the nasty habit of leaving windows and doors wide open.

"You really shouldn't leave yourself so exposed like this, Mr. Clarke," Harry lectured, wiping his feet at the doormat before entering. The small cottage smelled of rosemary and freshly baked bread. "It makes you vulnerable."

"Harry, my name is Alec now, and it is too hot outside to shut the windows." Harry smiled a little as he watched Alec bustling around the kitchen. "Sit, sit, I just made lunch."

Harry did as he was told, watching the man load up a plate with small sandwiches, likely made out of freshly-baked bread. "You expecting company?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Just you," Alec responded. "You always come the third week of the month."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That lonely out here, huh?"

"No, I just enjoy your company," Alec said with a smile. Harry felt his cheeks heat a little, though he wasn't sure why. He could admit he also enjoyed visiting Alec; he was calm, friendly, confident, and easy to talk to. Harry felt comfortable around him, and that was a relatively rare thing. He just never really thought past that.

Harry watched Alec toss his flour-covered apron over the back of the small dinette chair in the kitchen before he brought the plate out to the connected seating area. It was a small one bedroom cottage so the kitchen and seating area were basically one room.

Alec sat down next to Harry on the small sofa. Harry thanked him for a sandwich before he began speaking. "So, Alec, I brought you something." Harry said, reaching into his pocket. Alec turned to face Harry, crossing one knee on the couch in front of him so his back was against the arm of the couch, the other foot on the floor.

"A colleague of mine invented it." He held out a silver dollar, a less common American muggle form of currency.

"Money?" Alec asked, confused, taking the coin from Harry.

"No," Harry said with a chuckle. "It actually is a communication device. The, er, government invented a little microchip that is fitted inside. It is voice activated." That was complete bollocks, of course. It was a coin Hermione enchanted similar to that which she invented for Harry to communicate with the rest of Dumbledore's Army back at Hogwarts. She was perfecting a long-distance version.

"Brilliant," Alec said, looking at it. "It looks like a normal coin."

"Yes. If you hold it and say my full name, Harry James Potter, it will activate the one I carry." He pulled an identical coin from his pocket.

"Use it only when you are in grave danger. The technology is still experimental, so your best bet is still to get to the hidden camera in that portrait," Harry explained, nodding towards the painting near the divide to the kitchen. There was a portrait of a pink-haired woman in a brown cloak looking down at them. They had an identical painting in the ministry, with a golden placket below the painting that read 'TONKS.' Most of the portraits they used in this fashion were of aurors who had fallen in the line of duty, as a way to keep their legacy alive. The woman winked at Harry who tried to hide a smile. She returned to normal before Alec turned to look.

When aurors were dealing with the muggle population, they placed portraits in the safehouse in order to keep and eye on the individual they were protecting. That way they could respond quickly if there was trouble. When they had first moved Alec to the safehouse, Harry had explained there was a high tech undetectable camera in the picture, and if he was ever in danger to get to the painting. Alec believed him fully. It was amazing how muggles believed anything was possible if you just waved it off as top-secret government technology. Alec nodded, looking back at Harry.

"Keep it on you at all times," Harry finished, pocketing his own coin.

"Harry, do you carry one of these for all the people you have in protective custody? That is a lot to carry." Alec asked with a slight grin.

Harry blinked at him. "Er," Harry said eloquently.

Alec's smile widened. If Alec was good at anything, it was maintaining steady eye contact. He seemed content to wait for Harry to answer.

"No," Harry finally said lamely.

"Thanks, Harry," Alec said, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

Harry made a noise that was supposed to be 'you're welcome' into his sandwich. He wasn't sure why he felt a bit flustered.

Alec leaned sideways against the back of the couch. "We only seem to talk about the case when you come over. As much as I appreciate all you are doing for me and my sister, it is rather depressing," he said.

Harry wasn't sure how to respond to that or what else they were supposed to talk about, but it appeared as if Alec had ideas. "Can you tell me about yourself?" Alec asked casually. "How long have you been with the National Security Agency, Senior Officer Potter?"

"Oh, er, six years now, I think," Harry said, no longer able to maintain eye contact. Suddenly he felt a little out of his depth which was very unusual with a victim.

"Shit, really?" Alec said, blinking at him. "You must be older than you look."

"Er," Harry said again, hiding behind another bite of his sandwich. "I got into it right out of school," he offered, unsure how to convert into muggle terms skipping most of his seventh year at a wizarding school only to go conquer corruption in the government as soon as the war was over.

"You grow up in London?"

"Not exactly. The, uh, boarding school I went to was in Scotland," Harry responded. "What about you?"

"Born and raised in London, both of us."

"Parents still in London?" Harry asked, much more comfortable talking about Alec.

"Paris, now, actually. I lived with them for a few years to study baking, but knew I wanted to go back to London. What about yours?"

"They died when I was young," Harry explained. He found it strange to have to tell someone about his childhood.

"I'm sorry," Alec said, frowning.

Harry waved a hand at him. "Don't worry about it."

Alec nodded and a surprisingly comfortable silence fell between them. Harry idly looked around the cottage and out the window at the idyllic Irish landscape.

Harry looked back at Alec who was still gazing at him. "Well," he started, "you found yourself an extremely dangerous job when you were, what, 18? Did you also find yourself married?"

Harry choked a little on his sandwich. "Uh, no, I was going to be, but...we, uh, broke it off two years ago."

"Oh?" Alec said, his smile changing in some indeterminable way Harry didn't understand. Harry wasn't sure how that managed to be a question or how he should answer.

"We found we had different life paths," he said vaguely. Ginny left to play professional quidditch for several years after school, which was fine, but when she came back and wanted to start a family, Harry wasn't so sure anymore. But that was a lot to reveal to someone he barely knew, not to mention the whole quidditch thing.

"Harry, I appreciate you helping me," Alec said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"No thanks necessary. Just doing my job," Harry said casually, looking over at Alec. The man was staring at him intently, leaning forward slightly.

"All the same, thank you." There was something in those blue eyes that made Harry feel distinctly as if he missed something. The hand on his shoulder felt incredibly warm causing Harry's face to flush.

"Thanks for lunch," Harry said, standing suddenly. "But I have to go."

Alec let out a small laugh as Harry practically ran out the door. "See you next month!" he called after him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Harry wasn't sure why he was dreading the last crime scene. It was probably because the killer was becoming increasingly more accurate in the staging of the scene with every murder. Harry had seen the real crime scene in Severus Snape's memory via a pensieve, but he wasn't sure if he was prepared to see something like it in the flesh.

The house didn't look anything like the house in Godric's Hollow thankfully. Additionally, it appeared as if the killer stopped picking locations across from graveyards after the fourth murder. Harry suspected he was selecting locations now due to the significance of the family instead of the actual location. This made it more difficult to predict, but easier to establish a motive if he was targeting specific people.

That said, this family didn't make sense. They appeared to just be muggles with no evidence of even the baby being a wizard. He did have black hair, however, which appeared to be the one qualification that was consistent. This area also wasn't inhabited by the magical community, further supporting the theory that the killer was muggle born or raised.

Harry steeled himself and crossed the lawn, passing under the crime scene tape. Malfoy was right behind him, as were Wiggs and Hedge. Harry glanced around the yard, frowning. Wiggs and Hedge entered first, clearing the house before Harry entered, as was now custom. Malfoy waved his wand to turn on the lights, shutting the door after Harry entered.

The downstairs was pristine. It wasn't until you neared the stairs that you could even tell anything was wrong. About halfway down the stairs the blood started, seeping from the upstairs hallway. "No footprints," Harry remarked, looking at the stairs. "He didn't exit out the front or back door after."

"We believe he apparated when he was finished as this is a muggle house with no protections against doing so," Malfoy said, watching Harry. He had been doing that a lot lately and it unnerved Harry.

Harry flicked his wand, performing a small levitation charm on his shoes to preserve the scene as he walked up the stairs. The scene was several months old, so the blood was long since dry, but Harry wanted to be careful. Malfoy followed his lead, going up the stairs after him. "How long was it before they were found?" Harry asked.

"Mmm, 21 hours. Neighbor noticed blood on the window the following evening."

Harry nodded again. He stopped at the top of the stairs, though moved to the side to allow Malfoy to stand next to him. The bodies had long since been removed from the scene. "I need to see your memory of this one, too," Harry said with no inflection.

"Why? You can tell where the bodies were."

"I just need to see it."

"We have pictures," Malfoy argued.

"Malfoy. I just need to see it," Harry repeated, an edge to his voice.

Malfoy offered a shrug and continued walking through the house. Malfoy wasn't wrong - halfway down the hallway there were large blood splatters on the wall, indicating where the father had been tortured and killed. As they continued towards the nursery, Harry decided all the blood allowed him to distance himself from the scene. It was so far removed from the events of his childhood that he found he had an easier time processing it than he thought he would.

They entered the nursery and looked down at the crib. It was also covered in blood, though from the smears on the railing, it might have been from the mother trying to protect her child and not the baby himself. She had died at the foot of the crib.

"Do you think he is trying to create horcruxes?" Harry asked.

"It occurred to me," Malfoy responded.

"It would explain why he is attempting so many times to recreate the scene," Harry said, crossing his arms. "He is trying to duplicate whatever Voldemort did to become what he was."

"The question is whether or not he succeeded," Malfoy said casually.

"Have you looked if there are any prophecies of another Dark Lord?"

"Prophecies? I am an auror, Potter, not a divinations professor."

Harry snorted. "There was a prophecy regarding Voldemort trying to kill me. That whole 'neither can live while the other survives' kind of thing."

"I remember," Malfoy said a little testily. "We can send an inquiry, though I doubt it will come of anything."

"Let's hope not," Harry said quietly.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Back at the Congress, they stood over the pensieve. Malfoy had poured the vial containing his memory of the scene into the silver liquid. Unlike the other memories, Malfoy bent to enter the pensieve with Harry, taking special care it seemed to not make physical contact with him while doing so.

Once they landed inside the swirling memory, Harry quickly got his bearings. Both Malfoys were already walking up the stairs now coated in fresh blood. Harry hesitated at the top behind them, gazing down at the dismembered body of the father. "He was angry this time," memory-Malfoy said. He didn't know at that time that the victims had been killed by the Killing curse before dismemberment, so it was unclear if there was torture previous to death.

Harry was lagging behind memory-Malfoy who was ahead in the hallway. Other Malfoy was standing in between. "Merlin, I hope Potter never sees this," Harry heard memory-Malfoy say up in the room ahead. Harry glanced from present-day-Malfoy to the memory one, frowning. The real Malfoy kept a blank expression, giving nothing away regarding why he made the comment he did.

Harry cautiously moved forward and looked into the room, Malfoy right behind him. The child was in the crib, though strangely had no blood on him or any physical wounds at all with the exception of the lightning bolt carved into his forehead. Harry had seen the photographs in the files, but Malfoy was right: it was different being here.

He leaned against the doorway when he looked down at the mother. Her long red hair was matted with blood and lay splayed around her head like a halo. Her body was severely abused, cut, and torn. However, her positioning was uncanny. "It's not possible," Harry heard himself say. He could almost feel a phantom pain in his forehead. "How could he have seen it?"

"Seen what?" Malfoy said quietly next to him.

"That night. In '81. She…" Harry paused for a second, "Lily looked exactly like that." Besides the way she was positioned, she could have been his mom's sister. This woman looked way more like her than Aunt Petunia did, anyway.

Malfoy looked at him, frowning. "How do you know?"

"Snape," Harry said quietly. He turned suddenly, leaving the room and yanking himself out of the memory. With his feet firmly back on the ground, Harry turned quickly away from Malfoy. He found the small garbage can by the door and promptly threw up in it.

Malfoy blinked at Harry's back. "Charming."

"Fuck you, Malfoy," Harry said after a pause, then spat.

Malfoy leaned against the desk nonchalantly, crossing his arms again, propping one foot up. "Do you need a break?" he asked quietly with a disinterested tone as if unimpressed. "Some tea or something?"

"I'm fine," Harry said, straightening back up. He shot Malfoy a quick glare. "Just going to go find some water." By the time he had left and come back, he noticed Malfoy had switched the garbage, probably with another room.

"You were saying about Snape," Malfoy prompted after they stood awkwardly in the room for long enough, glaring mildly at each other. He was once still casually leaning against the desk, arms crossed.

"I…." Harry hesitated, looking away from him. "He didn't want anyone to know."

Both of Malfoy's eyebrows rose. "Severus _Snape_ confided in Harry Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Not exactly." He wiped his hands on his robe. He had told Hermione and Ron about the contents of the memories, but he hadn't shown them to anyone before. It was important for Malfoy to see the original crime scene, long before it was crawling with aurors, but he wasn't sure he wanted to share why Snape was there to begin with. It didn't seem right.

"Well?" Malfoy said.

"Okay, I will show you, but you have to promise that you will only tell people what is pertinent to the case. You don't need to mention _why_ Snape was there."

"Alright, Potter, I promise," Malfoy said dryly. As soon as they got back to the safehouse Harry fire-called Professor McGonagall, requesting the vial. It would take several days for it to arrive, so Harry was at least comforted in the fact that he could prepare himself for Malfoy's reaction.

"Come on, guys. There hasn't been another attack and it is Sunday. And Halloween," Hedge said, watching Malfoy and Harry move around the large kitchen table, concluding their work session for the evening.

"The killer isn't going to take Halloween off," Harry responded, straightening up a stack of papers. He had intended to go patrol the school hallways for a while before going to bed.

"You don't know that. We do guess he is a kid, after all, and kids love Halloween," Hedge retorted. "Besides, we can go to the bar in Boston that a lot of Ilvermorny alumni go to. Maybe we will get some clues there."

Harry rolled his eye, looking at Malfoy for support in this. Malfoy gave him a blank look back. "I'm sure the Director would support some intel gathering," Malfoy said loftily. Harry opened his mouth to argue and then closed it again. He supposed they had worked nearly everyday since he had arrived, but now seemed like such an irresponsible time to take the night off. He nodded reluctantly.

"Yes!" Hedge said enthusiastically. "I am sure the Director would understand. Be ready to go in 15?"

Harry grunted, turning to go to his room. Malfoy nodded, heading back to his room as well.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It was dark inside inside the bar with orange and purple enchanted orbs pulsing around the ceiling. Fake spider webbing, conjured bats, and other Halloween decorations covered nearly any surface that drinks or people didn't. Draco and Potter picked a couple stuffed chairs in the corner of the upper deck that was much quieter and less crowded than downstairs. There was even a smaller bar near them so they wouldn't have to venture far.

Draco left Potter talking to his lackey aurors, rolling his eyes. It surprised Draco how much Potter had changed over the years. He was always a bit dorky despite having the entire school fawning over him, but Draco never thought Potter would be this uncomfortable in social situations. It seemed as if Potter used to make friends relatively easily at Hogwarts, but now he seemed more withdrawn and serious. Draco supposed it was the war that changed him, not to mention being in law enforcement.

After buying two fire whiskeys, he made his way back to Potter who sat as casually as he could on one of the chairs. He passed him one of the drinks which Potter thanked him for.

"Where are your guards?" Draco asked, sitting down on another chair at a right-angle to Potter's.

"I told them to take a night off."

"Wow, leaving you unguarded in a bar with strangers." Draco drawled from behind his glass.

Potter rolled his eyes. "We compromised that they are going to sit downstairs near the exit." He pushed his hand through his hair, which Draco noticed he did when he was stressed or uncomfortable. This also had the accidental effect of exposing his lightning-shaped scar and making his unkempt hair even more messy.

"Wow, how miserable it must be to be the great Harry Potter," Draco taunted, sipping from his whiskey.

"Malfoy, seriously -"

"OMIGOD, Risa, do you see this great Harry Potter?" Potter barely had time to look up at the speaker before a girl dressed as a cat dropped herself in his lap. "You have the best costume I have ever seen! You look **exactly** like him," she told Potter gravely. "Did you die your hair?"

"Please get off me," was all Potter responded with. His hands were raised off to either side of them so as to clearly not be touching the girl, glass in one hand, wand in the other. His eyes were closed as if he was concentrating very hard on being anywhere but where he was. He repeated his please-get-off-me mantra again as the girl babbled more to her friend who had also walked over looking vaguely embarrassed.

"OMIGODRisaheisEnglish!" she said with drunken delight, just realizing Potter had spoken.

There was a pregnant pause.

"Miss-" Harry started to warn her and Draco could hear the commanding auror voice coming out.

She suddenly flew out of his lap, clutching onto her friend. Her eyes were wide, staring down at Potter. "OmigodIjustsatonHarryPotter," she slurred, quite obviously drunk.

Potter slowly lowered his hands and regarded her with an intense expression Draco wasn't sure how to describe. Somewhere between embarrassment, annoyance, and resignation.

"Sorry, sir," Risa said, pulling her shaken friend away with her to go probably as far away as they could.

Draco finally let the snort of laughter escape that he had been holding in, trying to hide it behind his glass of fire whiskey. "Bet you enjoyed that, Potter."

Draco smirked when Potter's intense expression became a full-on glare at Draco. "A lot of help you were," he said darkly.

"Why would I help?" Draco asked calmly, sipping at his drink. "She seemed pretty into you," he continued conversationally.

"I am in a relationship," Potter growled, downing his drink in one gulp. "You git," he finished.

"What he won't know won't-" Draco started but was interrupted by Hedge and Wiggs appearing next to them.

"Sir, we just wanted to check to make sure you-"

"I am fine!" Harry growled at them, standing up. "A lot of bloody help you would have been anyway." Potter stomped off towards the bar.

Draco smirked at Hedge when he looked at him with confusion. This was at least going to be an entertaining night.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It took a few days to get the memory vial from Professor McGonagall. Potter had stored it safely in the headmaster's cabinet with other headmaster's memories. She was reluctant to let an owl take it across the globe, but Potter promised to return it in one piece as soon as they were done reviewing it. It was important for the case, afterall.

When they were finally back with the vial at the Congress, Potter sat himself down at the desk. Draco raised an eyebrow at him, noting how Potter's knee immediately started bouncing out of nervousness. He had expected Potter to accompany him through the memory, but it was clear he was not interested in seeing it again. This piqued Draco's interest even further before he lowered his head into the silver pool.

When he landed, he was taken through snippets of Snape's childhood. He was rather stunned to discover that Lily Evans, Harry Potter's mother, was the object of Snape's affection for his entire life. He loved her so deeply that despite everything he had gone through, he remained true to Dumbledore's - and Potter's - cause. He somehow managed to stay in the grace's of the Dark Lord, one of the best legilimens of all time, to play as a double agent for years. And to think that Snape did it all because the Dark Lord murdered Lily due to the bad information that Snape had fed him was just astonishing.

Draco made sure to pay special attention to the way in which the house was staged when Snape was running through it. He didn't have a lot of time to observe every little detail, but he did his best to remember all he could. He paid special attention to the way in which Lily Potter was lying on the ground _before_ Snape lifted her to his lap to cradle her. Potter was not wrong - the body of the victim was positioned _exactly_ how Lily Potter was before the potions master lifted her. That meant that the killer somehow attended the house before Snape arrived.

Draco didn't have time to process much else before the room swirled away, revealing the headmaster's office. As Draco watched the conversation between Dumbledore and Snape, even his good breeding as a Malfoy couldn't stop his jaw from dropping. He always suspected that Dumbledore had something up his sleeve regarding Draco's feeble attempts at killing him, but recruiting Snape to finish the job was not at all what he expected. Draco knew that Snape had sworn an Unbreakable Vow with Draco's mother, and always assumed he had killed Dumbledore because of that Vow - because he had no choice. Draco never dreamed it was because of Dumbledore and Snape's dedication to Lily Potter.

Draco couldn't even begin to comprehend how Potter could so easily continue worshipping Dumbledore with the knowledge that he was - as Snape put so eloquently - raising Potter like a pig for slaughter. The amount of neglect and abuse Potter suffered by those he trusted was incomprehensible to Draco. It was a wonder the man was sane at all considering his knowledge of the plans constructed for him. Draco would admit he knew very little about why Potter had walked alone into the Forbidden Forest at the conclusion of the Battle of Hogwarts, but assuming he was armed with this knowledge at the time, no wonder he volunteered for suicide.

When Draco's feet landed back in the conference room of the Congress, he stood with his head bowed and his hands on the desk for several seconds, trying to gather his thoughts. He heard Potter clear his throat impatiently (or perhaps anxiously), so he lifted his head to look at him. He was surprised to see a little tinge of pink on Potter's cheeks, and a slightly worried look on his face. Was he embarrassed? That didn't make any sense. He should be angry or depressed, anything but _embarrassed_.

"That was...not what I was expecting," Draco said calmly, straightening his posture and tugging the panels of his coat down to smooth them out.

"That's it?" Potter said after a pause.

"What did you expect me to say?" Draco drawled, raising an eyebrow.

"I dunno," Potter mumbled, standing to turn away from Draco slightly. "Something taunting about my mum and Snape, I suppose."

Draco frowned a little. "I." He hesitated. "I never thanked you for testifying in my favor. At my trial." He wasn't entirely sure where that came from, but lifted his chin defiantly all the same.

Potter looked at Draco quickly, pink on his cheeks again. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Potter looked away again. "You still haven't," Potter pointed out, stuffing his hands back in his robe pockets. Sometimes he still looked like an 18-year-old.

Draco let the silence carry. "I think we've covered enough today," Draco said quietly.

Potter snorted, shaking his head. That was clearly going to be the best thanks he could get out of Draco. "Pub?"


	5. The Messenger

**Author's Note** : If you're not into smut, you might have to skip part of this chapter. Can't say I didn't warn you!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 **Chapter 5** : The Messenger

Harry woke to go run and found Wiggs stretching on the lawn outside. Without a word, Harry nodded to him, Wiggs nodded back, and they started running. They had been running together for about a week now, which was preferable to Hedge following him from a distance. Harry found he enjoyed Wiggs' company as he was gravely silent and never complained.

As they rounded a bend in the trail, Harry was startled to hear Wiggs finally speak: "Mr. Potter," he said, pointing up to the left. Harry finally pulled his eyes from Wiggs to look up in the direction he was pointing. A large glowing bird patronus was flying towards them in between the trees at an unnatural speed. It came to a stop in front of them and opened its beak.

The headmaster's voice came through the open beak: "There has been another attack. A student is hurt. Please come as soon as you can." The patronus finished playing its message and burst into a puff of silvery feathers. Harry knew that nearly identical messages were sent to probably Malfoy and the President. Without another word, Harry and Wiggs apparated back to the safehouse to rendezvous with the rest of their team to head to the school.

Harry, Malfoy, Wiggs, and Hedge used the floo network to arrive in the headmaster's waiting area where they found the deputy headmaster. He led them with barely a word down to the location of the attack in a third floor corridor. They found a student suspended in the air, clearly cursed, with her mouth agape, eyes wide and staring. She wore tatters of clothing that were destroyed from the thousands of cuts she suffered.

The killer looked to have adapted the _diffindo_ charm into something much more akin to _sectumsempra_ , giving Harry a slight shudder. That was one of those events that Harry never forgot and always regretted, though he had never spoken with Malfoy about it. Harry was grateful at the time that Severus Snape had been the one to discover them. He was able to mend Malfoy's wounds caused by Harry via the spell Snape had invented. From there, Harry had tried to use the spell once on Snape himself, but then vowed to never again.

Turning his attention back to the student, Harry walked near her, keeping a careful distance of a few feet. The only sound in the corridor was that of her raspy breathing and the occasional dripping of her blood, pooling below her on the stone floor. "How long has she been like this?" he whispered.

"She was found about 20 minutes ago by our caretaker. We are not sure how long she has been like this."

Harry took a few small steps towards her, his wand raised. He noted a putrid thickness to the air the closer he got to the girl. It was a thick miasma of Dark magic that coated Harry's skin like a film of oil the closer he got. It made him cough, forcing him to take a step back. Once he took that step, the girl's body shuddered and contorted in the air until she faced him.

"Harry Potter," she croaked in an unworldly voice. "You came. You finally came." Her neck twisted around in an inhuman way, looking at him almost upside down now. "I thought I would thank you. For giving me the opportunity that the Dark Lord had failed." As she spoke, her body continued to twist in the air, her body upside down now with her head facing Harry right-side-up. "Look for my next message. Less than ten days. I will see you. Soon."

As she spoke the last word her body seized. She collapsed to the floor as if she was made of lead with no rebound upon landing. The corridor was deathly quiet for barely a second before Harry realized everyone was staring at him. "Professor, we need to get this girl to your hospital wing," Harry said, moving forward. He flicked his wand at his own mouth, a face mask appearing. He scooped up the girl without acknowledging the short protest from Hedge that it wasn't safe.

Harry could still feel the putrid air around her on his skin, but at least it wasn't getting into his lungs. His eyes were burning and bloodshot by the time they made it to the hospital wing. With prompt efficiency not unlike Madame Pomfrey, the healer insisted he sit for an eye drop potion which he quietly accepted. Within the hour, the girl appeared to be stable and Harry was cleared to leave.

Using a student as a messenger like that seemed unnecessary. He clearly wanted them to know he could come and go in the castle as he pleased as well as had access to students. "Captain," Harry said, pulling back on his cloak as he was preparing to leave. "It's likely the attacker is a staff member due to their ease of accessibility We should begin interviewing everyone regarding their movements last night."

Malfoy nodded, turning to begin arrangements with the deputy and headmaster. Harry listened to them speak, allowing them to work out the details. His mind wandered, reflecting back on the threat they had felt when Hogwarts might have been forced to close. He was prepared to do anything then, much like Tom Riddle, if it meant the school could remain open, this bringing a stop to the attacks.

Harry entertained the idea that they could threaten to close the school publicly to see if that would draw a reaction out of the attacker, but dismissed it. In Riddle's case, it just resulted in Hagrid getting kicked out of school, not in Riddle getting caught.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 _January, 2006_

It was early on a cold Monday morning, around 3 am. Alec had just arrived at the hotel in the middle of the small Irish town where he worked as the baker. It was business as usual; the weekend baker didn't take out the trash, forgot to put the rolls away, and they were shorted on their delivery.

As Alec took out the trash, he stopped in the alley by the small dumpster. He looked around. He had heard something, maybe whispers. It was unusual of for others to be around at this time, as it was a relatively sleepy town this time of year with few tourists around.

He shrugged it off, going back into the hotel. The door wouldn't shut, though, which was weird. He pulled on the door fruitlessly a few times before he gave up. There had to be something blocking it he couldn't see in the dark alley, so he went back inside to go get a flashlight. It was in the manager's office, the door just barely visible from the back door.

As he turned to return to the back door, he saw someone slip inside the building from the alleyway. Frowning, he ducked behind the office door and watched. Two more people came inside and went past his open doorway into the kitchen area. Alec froze, trying to decide what to do.

This was not good. They must have found him. He suddenly remembered the coin Harry had given him and pulled it from his pocket. "I hope you can hear me, Harry James Potter," he whispered as quietly as he could to the coin, holding it just millimeters from his mouth. He suddenly felt silly. How could that help? It didn't occur to him when Harry had given him the coin, but how could Harry help him now all the way from London? Frowning, he pocketed the coin. Well, then he just had to make it back to the portrait.

Once he felt sure the men were far enough into the kitchen, he slipped out of the office again and padded as quietly as he could to the backdoor. He knew the kitchen well in the dark so he had no problem navigating in the near-total darkness, avoiding anything that made noise. As he poked his head out the back door, he heard a shout at the opposite end of the alley. Alec took off running in the opposite direction as soon as the person shot a red laser at him. Even when he and his sister were attacked, he didn't see the weapons that produced the lasers, though Harry had explained that it was some kind of advanced American technology.

As he rounded the end of the building, ducking another laser beam, he heard the backdoor of the hotel slam as the companions of whomever was shooting at him came flying out of the hotel. His safehouse was only a mile away from the hotel, so Alec took off at a sprint, fueled with adrenaline and fear. He couldn't think further ahead than just getting to the portrait which would somehow magically make him safe. They probably had agents planted in a nearby house or something.

The cold January air burned Alec's lungs as he dodged through some trees. He didn't even feel the cold despite only being in his baker's pants and his undershirt with no coat or jacket. He stumbled through a patch of snow, thankfully dodging a green laser instead of the purple or red he had seen before.

Alec heard a shout behind him that sounded something like 'behind us.' That was strange as there was no way anyone could have gotten there to help him unless someone saw the pursuit in town. He was so close to the cottage now, he risked a glance back and saw another jet of laser appear out of thin air and hit one of the people chasing him. Unable to tell who or where it came from, he turned back in time to throw the front door of his cottage open.

As he neared the portrait, the back door of the cottage flew open and a cloaked figure stepped in. Scrambling to change directions, Alec darted into the bedroom, slamming and locking the door shut behind himself. He wasn't able to get to the portrait and now he was trapped in the small windowless room.

Gasping for air, he backed away from the door, frantically looking around the room for a place to hide. Under the bed seemed as good as any, but he stopped climbing under when he heard a pained cry outside the bedroom door. It was followed by a brief silence before he heard his name yelled by a familiar voice.

"Harry?" he called back, standing back up to run to the door. It had to have been a trick, how could he get here so quickly?

Alec unlocked and opened the bedroom door, cautiously. "But I just-"

"Get in there," Harry ordered, grabbing a handful of Alec's shirt and shoving him into the bedroom. "Get down!" Harry waved a stick, and the wardrobe fell over in front of the door.

"They have those lasers, Harry, how -"

"No time to explain, get down," Harry insisted, pushing Alec back behind the bed and onto the ground. "Listen to me. Once I take them out we need to run to the edge of the property. More may be coming. We need to pass the portrait so the ministry will see we are under attack."

"Ministry? What -"

There was a loud bang and the bedroom door shuttered. Harry was crouched on one knee, one hand holding Alec down behind the bed, the other gripping a stick. Harry stared at the door, clearly waiting.

"What is that?" Alec whispered, looking at the small stick Harry brandished like a sword.

"Shh!" Harry urged. The silence drew out, only making Alec more tense. Another bang followed, and the door began to splinter.

" _Reducto!"_ Harry yelled at the first sight of a person, sending them flying. That person was replaced by another and another. Harry somehow blocked lasers that should have hit him and sent back his own lasers from the stick he was holding, ducking deftly in between. Probably four minutes later, it grew quiet.

Harry realized he had a vice grip on Alec's shoulder, loosened it, and looked down at him. "You okay?"

"Holy shit, that was brilliant," Alec breathed, staring at Harry. Harry opened his mouth to speak but Alec decided there was nothing else for it. He reached up, grabbed either side of Harry's face, and pulled him down into a rushed kiss. Harry let out an undignified squeak of surprise, eyes wide. When Alec pulled back, he grinned at Harry, blushing slightly.

"Uh...we have to go. Now," Harry said momentarily flustered. He grabbed Alec's arm and pulled him to his feet, waving his stick to clear the rubble blocking the way.

"How did you…?"

"Later!" Harry ran into the hallway but stopped briefly in front of the strange portrait. "Send reinforcements. There are four of them," he told her. Alec's mouth fell open when the now-brown-haired woman nodded with a determined expression and ran out of the frame.

"Let's go," Harry said, pulling Alec after him towards the back door. Harry saw movement in front of the open back door just in time, shoving Alec to the side as a beam of red light came through the doorway, grazing his left arm. He hissed out in pain, sending a laser back in response. The two of them tossed light back and forth until Harry managed to knock the attacker back and into some bushes.

"Go, go!" He pushed Alec out the door with his uninjured arm. The two sprinted the thirty or so meters until Harry reached out to Alec again and gripped his arm. Alec let out a pained yell when he felt what could only be described as getting pulled through a straw. The agony only lasted for a few seconds, however, before Alec felt ground below his feet again.

Harry turned back to Alec. "You okay?" he asked again.

Alec didn't answer at first, bent over holding his stomach.

"It's like that the first time. It will pass," he said gently, a hand on Alec's back. "But we have to move."

"'m fine," Alec managed after a few more moments. "You have a lot of explaining to do, Harry James Potter," he said as he raised his head to look at Harry.

Harry gave him a weak smile before he grabbed his arm again and pulled him towards the dirty wall of a non-descript stone building. "Are we in London?" Alec asked, eyes wide, looking around.

"Yes. I will explain later," Harry said again, looking back at him. For some reason his eyes looked a little sad.

Harry turned back to the building and raised his stick, tapping a strange pattern quickly onto the bricks of the building. The second he stopped, the bricks began folding away, revealing a doorway. Alec watched in amazement as Harry took his elbow again and steered him into the building. They entered an old-fashioned metal lift lit only with a gas lantern. Harry pushed a button on the lift labeled 'AUROR OFFICE.' Alec resisted asking more questions until he looked back at Harry, now finally seeing the state of his arm.

Much like Alec, it appeared as if Harry was ill-prepared for running around outside in the winter, dressed only in a t-shirt and jeans. This allowed Alec to see Harry's wounded arm he held delicately pinned to his ribs. His arm was covered in purple and red boils, oozing and bleeding. "Bloody hell, Harry, your arm," Alec said, gently reaching out.

"It's fine, just a _furnunculus_ curse," Harry said, avoiding looking at his arm. "The healers will fix it."

"A what? Harry, you need to go to a hospital."

"Later." The lift opened to a hallway that was buzzing with activity despite it being barely four in the morning.

"Head Auror, sir!" A young man called, dodging between people marching around the hallway. "You made it! We were worried sick! Merlin, are you okay?" he asked, looking at Harry's arm.

"Hey, Trevor, yeah, I am fine." As soon as the lift finished opening, Harry began walking quickly down the hallway, trailed by Alec and Trevor. Harry was still holding on to Alec's arm as if afraid of losing him in the hallway.

"Have the aurors reached the scene? There were five attackers."

"Yes, they are already there and we are waiting to hear back."

"Great. Get me McDarrow and Ellis the minute they return, and whomever the healer is at the moment. Also, be sure someone finds my cloak. I left it on the southwest side of the building," Harry added. Trevor nodded and ran off in another direction. A few more turns and they stopped outside an office with a sign that read:

Head Auror

H. POTTER

Harry tapped the door with his stick and it swung open for him. He ushered Alec inside, shutting the door after him. "What is an auror?" Alec asked as he turned to look at Harry.

"A sort of police officer," Harry answered quickly. "Look, we don't have much time. I need to go back to work. It's not going to matter, but I wanted to apologize to you."

"For what? Why doesn't it matter?" Alec was pretty overwhelmed, but it helped to be in a quiet closed room without the bustle of activity outside.

Harry looked at him sadly again, still cradling his injured arm. "I am sorry you got mixed up in this, and it won't matter because you...won't remember soon."

"How could I forget any of that? It was amazing!" Alec said, throwing his hands in the air.

"Really? You almost died. Why would you want to remember that?" Harry frowned at him.

Alec smiled again and stepped up close to Harry, looking down at him. Harry gazed back at Alec steadily with determination in his eyes, his brow slightly furrowed. As always, he stubbornly wouldn't back down or away, something Alec liked very much. "Can you not think of a reason?" Alec asked quietly, leaning in closer to Harry, before gently connecting their lips.

Alec could tell that Harry was tense, unsure. He felt Harry slowly relax and lean into the kiss, finally returning it. Alec felt the anxiety he didn't realize he was carrying dissolve in his chest, leaving behind the warm feeling of excited nervousness. Alec reached up a hand to gently cup the back of Harry's neck as they kissed. He felt Harry's hand rest gently on his chest for a few seconds before it gently pushed against him to separate them.

Alec smiled down at Harry who had an adorable pink tinge to his cheeks to contrast the slight frown he still wore. He hadn't been sure for a long time if Harry was interested in him, not to mention uncertain about the likelihood of a relationship being possible with the strange circumstances under which they met. Asking him out hardly seemed appropriate when he was supposed to be under his protection. If that kiss was any indication, however, it was clear that Harry has also been unsure, but had probably come to some sort of a conclusion.

"Alec," Harry finally started, now taking a step back and lowering his hand from Alec's chest. "We have what is called the International Statute of Secrecy. People like you aren't supposed to know about people like me. They will _obliviate_ you, wipe your memory."

"Why? What are you anyway?"

"I am a wizard, Alec."

Alec let out a laugh, but then faltered when Harry didn't also laugh. "Wait, you're serious?"

Harry smiled sadly. "It doesn't matter, you won't remember."

"Aren't you a department head or something? Can't you just tell them not to _obliviate_ me or whatever?"

Harry looked thoughtfully off to the side, shifting his wounded arm absently. "I could ask the Minister."

"You can just talk to the Prime Minister whenever?"

"No, the Minister of Magic, our version of the Prime Minister. We...go way back," Harry said awkwardly, offering a smile.

Just another thing that was intriguing to Alec. "Do people like me never know about your magic world?"

"Well, no, they do under very special circumstances. Most families are half-blood or less now, actually." When noting the strange expression on Alec's face, Harry continued, "Half-blood means half wizard, half muggle, what we call non-magical folk."

"Muggle, huh? So if we can't know about you, how are those families formed?

"Usually it is a surprise after marriage," Harry said with a shrug. "But then they also have to accept the Statute."

"I'll accept it," Alec said without hesitation.

Harry frowned slightly at Alec, a complicated look in his eyes as as he considered him. "I will see what I can do," Harry said as there was a knock on his office door. He took a step away from Alec as he called for them to enter.

"Head Auror, sir." It was Trevor again. "Healer Laggery is here."

"Thanks, Trevor." Harry leaned casually against his desk. Alec sat himself down on one of the stuffed chairs to remain out of the way. An older man shuffled into the room dressed in brown robes that were similar to what Trevor wore only they were probably two decades older.

"Hey, Phillip," Harry greeted, smiling.

"What have you gone and done now, Potter?" he demanded gruffly, gesturing to the arm. "Boils? When are you going to learn to block spells?"

Harry smiled. "Any day now."

"You need to stop putting yourself in danger. You're almost my age." The man was clearly at least twice Harry's age, but Harry wisely didn't point this out. He roughly pulled Harry's arm towards himself to inspect it closely.

"Sorry, Phillip," Harry said, wincing.

"Bloody well should be. Making me walk all the way up here…." The man continued to grumble to himself, waving his own stick over the wounds. Some of the smaller boils started to shrink and pop, though the bigger ones were only reduced in size.

"Best I can do, boy." He rifled around in his left sleeve. "Here is a boils cure for the rest of it." He handed Harry a small vial which Harry took. He downed the liquid inside the bottle in one swig and handed the bottle back to Phillip with a nod.

"Thanks, Phillip," Harry said, watching the old man turn and totter back out of the room without a goodbye. Harry flexed his arm, watching as the rest of the boils shrunk into small scabs. Alec couldn't help but stare.

Seconds after the healer left, there was another curt knock on the partially closed door. "Sir," a man greeted as he stepped inside. "I passed Laggery in the hall, you okay?"

"Never better, Ellis, thanks," Harry responded, waving the tall black man into the room. Alec decided this man was definitely the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. Easily a few centimeters taller than Alec, he practically towered over Harry, especially while he was leaning against his desk. He wore the same chocolate brown robes as the rest of the officers running around, but he had some extra decoration on his lapels, probably indicative of award or rank.

Ellis held out a bundle of fabric to Harry. "We found this for you, sir."

"Brilliant, thanks."

"I didn't know you had one," Ellis said, eyeing it. "Explains some things."

Harry smiled and folded it carefully before tucking it into his desk. "Let's keep that to ourselves, shall we?"

"Sir."

"Did you get all the suspects?"

"All five, yes. Shamshore, Nattlebrook, Rodgers, Hellsby, and Dexter. As expected."

Harry made a sigh of relief, leaning back on his hands on the desk. At this point another man, shorter than Ellis entered the room. He nodded to Harry, who returned it.

"So that's that, then. I want to be there for the interrogation, no one can talk to them first. Keep them in a full body-bind until then," Harry said before he looked over to Alec. "Hopefully they will tell us where your sister is."

Both the two men blinked at Alec as if they hadn't realized he was there. "Sir?" the newer man asked.

"Let's get to it," Harry said, pushing away from the desk. "Sorry, Alec," he said striding across the room towards a cabinet in the corner. "I need to do this, so I am going to have to leave you here for a bit, is that okay?" He opened the doors and pulled out a long crimson robe, slipping it around his shoulders. Considering the patch and decorations on the chest and shoulders, Alec assumed this was a sort of strange wizard uniform for Harry. The effect of the robes was transformative; they added a dashing severity to Harry's look that made him appear older and even more handsome.

"Of course. I'll just wait here, then?" Alec asked.

Harry nodded, offered him a smile, and disappeared out the door, flanked by the other two men. The door shut behind them. Alec sat there quietly for a few minutes, reflecting on what all had just happened.

First off, apparently magic was a thing. And there was a separate government and everything. He had somehow managed to get caught up in it and fell for someone he suspected was roughly equivalent to a police commissioner to boot. He always fancied the idea of Harry being some sort of special government officer, but this was even more wild than he had anticipated. Too bad he could tell no one about it.

He stood and walked slowly around the room, still surprised by the fact that the various portraits on the wall could move. The people pictured wore strange clothes Alec was beginning to expect were standard wizard-fare. Most of the portraits Alec guessed came with the office as they appeared to be those who previously held Harry's post. The exception was of an imposing black man with a friendly face and rich midnight-blue robes. The plaque below his portrait read 'Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt.'

There were several framed articles on one section of the wall. The largest was a newspaper centerspread with the headline 'Battle of Hogwarts: Fallen Heroes.' It featured images of those fallen in a great battle dated 2 May, 1999, nearly seven years prior. Alec's eyebrows continued to rise steadily the further he read. He had never heard of Hogwarts and was unaware of a war that apparently raged for years. The introduction to the article was mystifying enough:

 _It is with great honor and sadness that today we pay tribute to the humbling sacrifice of many a great witch and wizard on the one-year anniversary of The Battle of Hogwarts. None of us can forget the events of that day, and how the sacrifice of the many saved us all. Led by an 17-year-old Harry Potter, the forces of good triumphed this day against the darkest wizard of our time, Lord Voldemort._

 _We apologize if our use of this name upsets our readers. Potter himself has championed the use of the name, saying it "brings greater honor to those who fought against him." So, in faith we will again follow Potter, dropping our fear of the name in an effort to celebrate those who we have lost:_

 _SEVERUS SNAPE: Loyal to Potter and the late Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Until his death, Snape played a critical role in the defeat of Voldemort by serving as a spy._

 _NYMPHADORA TONKS: A dedicated auror and friend to Potter._

 _REMUS LUPIN: A teacher and friend to the Potter family, he gave his life to protect the students of Hogwarts._

 _FRED WEASLEY: Weasley's humor provided a light in the dark for all that knew him._

The article continued, listing around 50 additional names with small dedications. Alec recognized the image of the woman named Nymphadora with that of the portrait in his living room. Many of the names were so outlandish that Alec had a hard time believing what he was reading. The article continued:

 _It is worth noting that while the Battle of Hogwarts remained the largest battle in the war, it was not the only battle at which sacrifices were made. To all those who risked and gave their lives leading up to the Battle, we thank you for your great and unfathomable service. It was on your shoulders that this victory was bared, and without you, it could not have been accomplished. Unfortunately, it is nearly impossible to list all souls lost, but it is to you that we take off our hats._

 _It is with a heavy heart that we also mention the recent passing of Pomona Sprout, beloved teacher and Head of Hufflepuff House. She played a key role in the defense of Hogwarts and its students during the Battle, and continued to serve as herbology professor until her passing. Neville Longbottom, another key hero of both the Battle and the war, is welcomed as her capable successor._

 _In memoriam, those of us at The Daily Prophet would also like to thank the survivors of the Battle as well. You fought valiantly against Voldemort and his Death Eaters and achieved greatness. We wish you all the happiness and success in your life, knowing you are in everyone's thoughts._

 _May you stay safe and remain vigilant._

Alec stepped back from the article, his head swimming. He couldn't comprehend Harry being not only a war hero, but leading a decisive battle at the age of 17. What kind of society used children to conduct their wars? Clearly if they had a government, it should have been protecting the people against this Lord Voldemort, not a high school student.

Turning around, he noticed the curious contents of a few glass cases on the other side of the room. Walking over, he regarded them. In one glass dome was a small black locket suspended in the air. The panels of the locket we're open and utterly destroyed. The chain was also shattered, though the pieces were suspended as if still complete.

The case next to the necklace was a rectangular box containing another one of the objects Harry had used as a weapon. Alec realized the wizard theme carried through and this was probably a wand. It was black and brown, about 10 inches, and had a subtle carved handle carved. It appeared to be a lot more severe than Harry's wand. Like the necklace, the case was unhelpfully without label.

On the opposite side of the necklace from the wand was a much smaller case that contained a small golden metal sphere. It was also floating impossibly in the case, though the small ball had thin transparent wings that fluttered occasionally. The ball had an empty cavity in it, and Alec could not even guess what it might have once contained.

Alec continued walking around the room, fascinated by the artifacts and images. Harry's incredibly messy desk was stacked high with reports and papers, the majority of which were hand-written on strange old-world parchment paper. Although Alec was curious what kind of other cases Harry worked on, that somehow felt a little too invasive, so he didn't read any of the pages.

He turned his back to the desk to look at the bookcase built into the wall directly behind Harry's desk opposite the front door. On it were various books on assorted topics: 'Hogwarts: A History,' 'An Auror's Guide,' 'A Practical Guide for Field Healing,' 'Seven Tricks for a Highly Efficient Auror' (that one looked unopened), 'Fantastic Beasts of Europe,' the list went on. More interesting were the occasional moving photographs on the shelves. Many of the photos featured Harry standing, shaking hands, or interacting with different people. There was one of him standing proudly next to a severe older woman in rich emerald robes, her black hair tied in a tight bun on the top of her head. Alec recognized her from a framed article that named her officially as the new headmistress of Hogwarts. There was another photo of an entire crowd of smiling people jostling each other, all featuring red hair with the exception of Harry in the center.

Many of the photographs featured the same two people, a man and a woman, both with and without Harry. The woman had thick brown hair and was featured wearing official regalia of some sort, or was with strange animals or books. In one of the photos featuring the red-haired man, he stood with Harry and another man, likely a relative, in front of a bizarre shop called Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

Alec continued admiring the photos, lingering the longest on a set of five of the largest photos, featured on their own shelf in the center of the bookcase. One was a portrait of the oldest men Alec had ever seen, sporting long white hair and beard, half-moon spectacles, and a cheeky twinkle in his eye. Another photo was of the same greasy-looking man in black robes the article had named Severus Snape.

There was a picture of a man with wild, black curly hair and a kind face, standing with his arm around a young 15- or 16-year-old Harry's shoulders. Alec had seen Harry smile before, but never like how he did in this picture. He occasionally looked up at the man next to him with such admiration, it was rather touching. Alec wondered why the man was not featured anywhere with an older Harry, and realized he was probably one lost during the war, probably before the Battle of Hogwarts.

The next picture on the shelf featured a young couple, holding hands. Alec decided these people were probably Harry's parents as Harry looked nearly identical to the man and had the same green eyes as the woman. He remembered Harry telling him they died, and wondered if it was also due to the war.

The last picture appeared to be a graduation picture of Harry with the two people Alec decided we're probably Harry's childhood friends. They were about 17 or 18 and wore tired yet relieved expressions. The three of them stood in front of a set of massive doors that looked to be the entrance to a castle. Behind the picture was also a framed diploma, declaring Harry James Potter graduated from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Alec turned away from the photos to survey the room again. He hadn't quite realized how little he knew Harry, and honestly found this taste of the Magical world rather exciting. After walking around a bit more, he sat himself back down on the couch. He wondered if Harry would be able to convince Minister Shacklebolt to allow Alec to keep his memory. He wanted to know more about this strange parallel universe.

Alec didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he was woken by the sound of voices outside the office, followed by the door opening. Standing quickly, Alec felt a bit anxious, filled with a nervous excitement for both some news and also to see Harry again. He had so many questions for him.

Harry entered followed by the same two men as before. "You are always right, Ellis," Harry said with a comfortable laugh.

"Damn right, sir," he responded with a chuckle.

Harry turned to them and shook each of their hands. "Good work today, gentlemen," Harry said. Alec noticed Harry's face was full of energy, his eyes bright. There was no sign that he had been up the entire night, running around in the dark saving Alec, not to mention whatever else he had just been doing.

"Let me know when the Minister gets in, will you?"

"Of course, sir," Ellis responded. He saluted to Harry and then nodded to Alec before he and the other auror left.

Alec ran a hand over his hair casually, watching Harry as he turned to face him. "Sorry you had to wait so long. Busy morning," Harry said as he grinned at Alec. Harry typically looked confident when he visited Alec, but he hadn't seen him nearly this vibrant.

Alec raised his eyebrows. "What time is it? What happened?"

"It is nearly 10 am," Harry said as he walked purposefully up to Alec. It was Alec's turn to be surprised as Harry reached up and took Alec's face in his hands, pulling him down to kiss him. Alec gently put his hands around Harry to the small of his back. When Harry eventually pulled back he grinned up at him again. "We got them. We found your sister."

Relief flooded through Alec, his knees nearly buckling. He let out a whoop of excitement, grabbing hold of Harry to hug him tightly, partially lifting the smaller man off the ground. "When can I see her? Is she okay?"

"She'll be fine," Harry said. "She is with the healers at the moment. You should be able to see her soon." Instead of responding, Alec captured Harry in another kiss, the guilt for being attracted to Harry completely washing away. He supposed he was being a little too enthusiastic when Harry gently pushed him away, looking even more flush.

Harry adjusted his robes, clearing his throat as he took a step back from Alec. "Anyway, it appears as if those men we caught were just a smaller group who worked for the big boss. From what we can tell, the rest of the gang doesn't know you exist. For obvious reasons they didn't tell their boss that you escaped, so...you are a free man, Alec. Er, Peter," Harry corrected.

"Weird to hear you call me that."

"Little bit."

They stood there in a slightly awkward silence for a second, Harry's hands in his robe pockets. It looked like he was avoiding looking at Alec which he found charming.

There was a brisk knock on the door. "Come in," Harry said, turning towards the door.

"Minister Shacklebolt just got here."

"Oh, great, thanks, Trevor, I will go see him."

"No, like _here_ ," Trevor said, trying not to sound nervous.

"Oh. Brilliant, show him in," Harry said casually, seeming unconcerned.

Trevor stepped back, holding the door open for Minister Shacklebolt who swept into the room, nodding his thanks to Trevor.

"Harry Potter," the Minister said, smiling. He clasped wrists with Harry.

"How was Germany, Kingsley?" Harry asked. The two clearly did have history.

"Ah, politics, Harry. Stay in law enforcement for as long as you can." The two chuckled. The Minister saw Alec and smiled at him, holding out a hand. "You must be Mr. Kowalski," Shacklebolt said warmly.

Alec shook the hand. "Pleasure, Minister Shacklebolt," he said, glad he had snooped around the room.

"You didn't have to come all the way up here, Kingsley, I was planning on coming to your office once you got in," Harry said, drawing Shacklebolt's attention back to him.

"Never a bother. It's nice to be back in the old stomping grounds. So, I hear you had a busy night. A rescue, a few hours of interrogations, a raid… All before breakfast, hm?"

"Just doing my job, sir."

Shacklebolt smiled. "You always are. Now, I heard you had a question for me."

"Yes, sir, I was hoping to ask for an obliviation pardon for Mr. Kowalski."

"Oh?" He glanced from Harry to Alec and back. "On what grounds?"

"Well, as Mr. Kowalski is already aware of the wizarding world due to today's events, and we may begin to, er, see more of each other, I request we not wipe his memory. If it doesn't work out, I will _obliviate_ him myself."

Shacklebolt looked from Harry to Alec and back again, eyebrows raised. "Only for you, Harry. He is your responsibility."

Whenever Alec thought back to that day, he was pretty sure it was the smile Harry gave him after the Minister left that made Alec fall in love with him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Over the next several days they interviewed nearly everyone on staff. It was slow going and meticulous, and Harry was pretty sure by now the killer wasn't anyone they had interviewed. Most teachers had a student or another teacher as an alibi, and unless there was some serious collusion, it seemed unlikely they were lying.

After they concluded their interviews each day, Harry insisted on patrolling the corridors with the other aurors. He did this partially to keep busy, but also in order to learn the navigation of the school. It was likely much of their investigation was going to revolve around these halls, so knowing them would be important. Not to mention, he aimed to do his own investigating for a secret chamber.

Besides, the attacker's next message was to be delivered some time in the next several days. Harry wanted to be available in the hopes of avoiding another student getting hurt. Malfoy usually remained at the school with him during that time, but he spent his time elsewhere while Harry usually walked with Wiggs and sometimes Hedge.

"We need to consider the idea that there is some sort of chamber in this school," Harry said out loud. He had gotten in the habit of speaking to Wiggs sometimes even though he almost never responded. It was helpful to Harry to say ideas out loud when theorizing on the case. "It could even be a hidden room or broom closet, but because he referenced 'truth' instead of 'secrets,' I feel like it might not be a hidden chamber. What would be a chamber of truth?"

"Library," Wiggs responded after a pause.

Harry stopped and looked at him. "Library. Brilliant." He changed direction, heading towards the fifth floor of the east wing. As he rounded a corner, Harry stopped dead in his tracks, Wiggs nearly colliding into him.

All the torches were extinguished in the hallway so the only light came from the occasional patch of moonlight through a window. Wands out, the two men walked silently down the corridor, ears strained. They turned a corner to the hallway that led either to the library or the stairs to the astronomy dome. Harry could just make out a puddle seeping out from underneath the door to the astronomy dome by the acant light reflecting off the surface.

Holding out a hand to keep Wiggs behind him, the other hand armed with his wand, Harry advanced slowly. As he feared, the puddle below the door was blood. Harry listened at the door for a few seconds, trying to hear if there was anyone inside. Hearing nothing, he lifted his wand to perform standard trap detection spells. Finding nothing, he carefully stepped in the blood and turned the handle to open the door.

Once the door was opened, Harry and Wiggs could only partially see the scene inside. They were on the base floor of the classroom where the professor would lecture. Nobody was in the room, but nearly every surface had blood on it. Looking around, it appeared to Harry as if all the blood had dripped down in between the wooden floor slats from the platform above, where the practical part of the classroom was.

Slowly, the two wizards made their way to the spiral staircase that led to the platform above. The classroom was structured so that there were pairs of chairs arranged in tiered circles facing inwards to the platform the professor would stand on. There were little telescope extensions available to each seat, connecting up to the larger telescope at the professor's disposal.

In the center of the room another cursed student floated in the air. There wasn't anything visibly wrong with the student from this distance, which was rather shocking considering the state of the room. It was drenched in blood. Liters and liters of it. It was definitely more blood than could have come from one person, much less a child.

No threat immediately visible, Harry moved forward, wand still raised, watching the boy carefully. The quiet squelching sound of walking through that much blood in such a quiet space rang loudly in Harry's ears. The room reeked of the usual musty book smell, but it was coated with a heavy tang of blood. Harry only performed cursory glances around the room, ascertaining that he and Wiggs were alone with the student.

The boy's body floated upright as if he was standing, and his head hung so his chin rested upon his chest, arms limp at his sides. As Harry neared the victim, he noted the same acrid smell and sensory experience he encountered around the first girl. Once Harry was within an arm's length of the child, Wiggs grabbed his wrist. "It's not safe," Wiggs said to Harry, trying to pull him back.

Harry did pause, remembering how his presence did seem to trigger the last child. He pulled crime scene gloves from his robes, and once again summoned a facemask to protect himself. Wiggs reluctantly did the same. Before Harry could stop him, Wiggs reached out and gently touched the child's wrist.

Surprisingly, nothing happened. Wiggs was able to lift the unconscious child into his arms and they carried him down to the infirmary. Once there, Harry sent Wiggs to retrieve the headmaster, Malfoy, and Hedge. Once they returned, Harry explained what he and Wiggs experienced. As he finished speaking, he reached over to push the bangs out of the child's face. He jumped when the child's eyes snapped open, and the child's hand moved with inhuman speed to grab Harry's gloved wrist.

The child's mouth opened, emitting a terrible voice without moving his tongue or lips. "YOU WILL KNOW SORROW WHEN THIS CHILD DIES. IT IS A WARNING. BRING ME HARRY POTTER TO THE PLACE WHERE THE LOCKET SLEPT. YOU HAVE UNTIL MIDNIGHT TOMORROW. BRING ME HARRY POTTER OR I WILL KILL DOZENS LIKE THIS CHILD."

Before Harry even had a chance to react, there was a flurry of activity in the room. Harry was forcibly pulled away from the child by Hedge and Wiggs while Malfoy pushed the headmaster and healer away, shielding them. A cloud of dark purple smoke erupted from the boy's gaping mouth, those present just out of the cloud's range. The boy coughed and sputtered, crying out in pain. Within seconds, under the crowd of eyes, the boy died, the veins at his temple and neck filled with an ugly blackish purple.

"Get Potter out of here," Malfoy commanded Wiggs, shoving Harry towards the door. "Go to the safehouse, I will meet you there." Harry was about to object when Hedge wheeled on him, threatening to body-bind him if he didn't come along quietly. Glaring at Malfoy, Harry left with the two wizards and was returned to the safety of the cabin, furious.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Harry paced in the living room for just over an hour, glaring at Wiggs and Hedge occasionally. There was no way they could just hole up and not do what they could to find the killer. They couldn't just keep Harry in lock down. They had to study his message. It was obvious the location that the killer was referring to, and they should be organizing a force to go secure it so that Potter could make contact, draw him out. They might actually learn who this lunatic was.

Finally, the front door opened and Malfoy entered, followed by President Fontaine and her personal guards. "Harry, sit," she commanded, eyeing him sternly.

"Custa, we need to be organizing a team to get to the location-"

" _We_ will, Harry, not you." She stood in front of him, returning his glare. "We will go to the meeting point with someone polyjuiced as you and prepare to make contact. You just have to tell us where that meeting place is. Clearly it is significant to you."

"What? No. No way. I am not going to let anyone impersonate me again just to get themselves killed," Harry replied, shaking his head. He didn't noticed Malfoy's eyebrow raise a little questioningly. Harry remembered all too well the night he turned 17 when he had lost the powerful blood magic protection. The Order of the Phoenix volunteered to transport him by broom to a safehouse, resulting in the deaths of both Alastor Moody and Hedwig.

"Harry, where did the locket sleep? The longer you stall, the less time we have to save lives."

Harry looked away from the President. He reluctantly told them about the cave located near the orphanage where Riddle grew up and roughly how to get there. He warned them of the blood cost of entry as well as the lake filled with inferi, if indeed they were still there. He provided a few strands of his hair. Thanking him, the President turned towards the door. "You cannot leave, Harry. You understand me, right?"

Harry looked up at her, keeping his face as blank as possible, trying not to yell in frustration. "Yes, Madam President."

She frowned at him, nodding. She turned and before leaving, stopped in front of Malfoy, Hedge, and Wiggs. "Do **not** let him leave until you hear from me personally. Take his wand if you have to."

Malfoy nodded in response, and the President left with her entourage. Malfoy and Wiggs exchanged looks. "Leave us. He'll be fine," Malfoy said to the other two aurors. Hedge and Wiggs nodded, leaving the room to go back downstairs to their rooms. Malfoy probably hoped that if everyone wasn't staring at Harry, expecting him to jump out a window, that he would be able to calm down.

Malfoy moved into the dining room before he spoke again. "Why do you know about that cave?" he asked calmly, almost as if trying to distract Harry. Harry looked at Malfoy who stood with his arms crossed, leaning with his hip against the dining table still covered in their case research papers.

"It doesn't matter," Harry snapped.

"Clearly it does matter, Potter, or else a child wouldn't have just died in order to convey it in a message."

Ancient anger suddenly bubbled up from within Harry. "It was where _Slytherin's_ locket was hidden, one of Voldemort's horcruxes." Harry growled, taking a few threatening steps towards Malfoy. "Retrieving it with me was the last thing Dumbledore did before he died. We had just returned from there when _you_ confronted him in the astronomy tower." Harry could still see Malfoy disarming Dumbledore, leaving him defenseless for Snape's arrival. He understood now why Snape did what he did, but it gave him no comfort. Dumbledore sacrificed Snape so that Malfoy would live, as unworthy as he was. Snape was supposed to have control over the Elder wand but not know it. All part of Dumbledore's bloody master plan.

Harry had lost Dumbledore, his protector and guide, then Snape, one of the bravest men he knew. Leaving him with Malfoy. This cowardly man who didn't deserve anything. Harry still wondered if Dumbledore somehow knew Malfoy wouldn't have the courage to kill him and would disarm him only. It had resulted in the Elder Wand passing to Malfoy instead of Snape, which ultimately allowed Harry to beat Voldemort in the end. When that idea occurred to Harry, that it was in part thanks to Malfoy that he was able to defeat Voldemort, he became even more angry, refusing to give any credit to the snake that betrayed Dumbledore.

Malfoy frowned, glaring at Harry, but he didn't step back. "I did not kill him, Potter. You saw what happened."

"You might as well have, Malfoy," Harry sneered, turning and walking away from him, his fists clenched.

"Potter, you cannot leave," Draco warned, deciding not to respond to Potter's previous comment as Potter had pulled out his wand. Draco slowly drew his own wand, preparing to stop him if needed.

"Malfoy, you don't understand," Potter growled. "He is going to murder more people and I need to stop it."

"If you go, he'll still kill people, and probably also you. If you don't, he'll still kill people but at least you will live."

"It is the only chance we have to stop this! It doesn't matter if he kills me, if I can stop him I have to try," Potter said angrily, still moving towards the front door. As Potter pulled the door open, Draco raised his wand. The door slammed shut. Potter froze, his back still turned to Draco. "You can't stop me," he said over his shoulder.

"I can and I will," Draco snarled back, wand still pointed at Potter's back. "You heard the President. I have express instructions not to allow you to martyr yourself-" Draco was cut off as he ducked behind the table to avoid a jinx. "Seriously, Potter?!" he yelled, aiming under the table and shouted out a quick " _Expelliarmus_!" holding out his hand to catch Potter's wand as it flew over to him.

Draco stood back up, finding something oddly satisfying about using Potter's signature spell against him. The smirk didn't last long, however, because by the time he stood, Potter was already marching around the table straight at him, furious. "Malfoy, give me my wand!" Potter commanded, Malfoy had never felt physically threatened by the shorter man before, but now he noticed Potter was noticeably stronger. While Draco was slim and lean, Potter had much more of a muscular and athletic build with broader shoulders. He was rather an imposing figure as he advanced upon Draco.

"Is this is pity thing, Potter? Always need us to worship you for trying to save all of wizard kind, all by yourself?" Draco taunted, backing away from him, still holding both wands, Potter's behind his back, his own was held in front of him nearly touching Potter's chest.

"My wand, Malfoy," Potter demanded through gritted teeth. Annoyed that Potter didn't take the threat of him pointing his wand at him seriously, Draco flicked a stinging jinx at him. That surprised Potter, causing him to take an involuntary step back, his hand on his chest where Draco hit him.

"You are addicted to your martyrdom, Potter. Throwing yourself at yet another Dark Lord isn't going to make people love you."

"Shut up!" Potter yelled, lunging forward to punch Draco across the jaw. Stunned, Draco stumbled backwards, his back hitting the wall behind him. He had no chance to react when he felt Potter grip his left shoulder with his left hand, his forearm pressed across his chest to pin him to the wall. Potter's right hand was reaching around Draco, trying to get his wand back.

"Is your need for worship so great that you have to always try to sacrifice yourself?" Draco snarled, struggling to keep Potter's wand from him. He didn't realize that he had dropped his own wand, he was so focused on trying to push Potter off of him and not let him get his wand.

Potter's left arm that held Draco pinned across the chest moved down to grab Draco's right wrist. Potter's other hand stopped groping for his wand and grabbed Draco's shoulder. Using both hands in concert, Potter spun Draco around, intentionally slamming Draco's chest into the wall, forcing out a gasp of pain. Draco's right arm was pinned underneath him, but he thrust his left hand which still held Potter's wand away from them, trying successfully to keep it out of Potter's reach. Potter used not only his left arm to pin Draco against the wall, but his hips and chest were pressed against Draco's back as well. He was trying to stop him from struggling, which Draco was mightily doing.

Draco realized as Harry's knee pressed between his legs that he felt a hardness that wasn't Potter's hipbone press into him from behind. It took a few seconds to realize what that hardness was. "Potter, are you-" Draco started to say, but then stopped with a yelp when Potter managed to get ahold of his wrist and slam it against the wall twice, forcing him to drop the wand to the ground.

Draco renewed his struggling, trying to push the stronger man off of him. He managed to get his arm free and used it to push himself back off the wall, putting Potter off balance. This gave him just enough time to spin around and reach down for his wand before Potter recovered and slammed against him again. Potter grabbed his wrist to stop Malfoy from retrieving his wand, once again pinning it against the wall. "Get off me, Potter," Draco sneered, struggling with both wrists now pinned painfully against the wall. Potter's body was pressed against him, still holding him in place.

"Fuck you, Malfoy," Potter snarled back, his face just an inch away from Draco's. Draco glared back into the green eyes that shone with some intense darkness that was unfamiliar to Draco. There was something alluring about the danger Draco saw there, something that he didn't expect. He was surprised to find a heat gathering below his stomach.

Renewing his struggle, Draco felt pain shoot down his arm where Potter twisted it. He let out an involuntary gasp when Harry's hip shifted again and pressed into his groin. To Draco's embarrassment, this alerted him to his own growing reaction to their grappling while Potter physically overpowered him. They continued struggling, Draco trying to wiggle himself free from Potter, Potter trying to maintain control over Draco. Neither seemed to be pursuing their wands anymore, focused only on each other.

Draco managed to free his arm again, and pushed at the shorter man's face, earning him a bite. Potter finally managed to kick one of Draco's feet to the side, putting him off balance. This allowed him to brace his hip securely up against Draco's hardening erection, his leg in between Draco's, forcing Draco to release a hiss of something that sounded dangerously like pleasure. Glaring at him, Draco knocked Potter's glasses off his face as he struggled to maintain his balance. In response, Potter's hand switched to grabbing Draco's throat, pinning him dangerously to the wall.

"If you keep me here, I am going to make your life a living hell," Potter threatened.

"You already do," Draco sneered back a little more breathlessly than he intended.

Draco let out a surprised "Mrmph!" when Potter violently met Draco's mouth with his own, knocking his head hard against the wall. He felt a strange heat move over his body, stunning him briefly. His brain couldn't comprehend what was worse - the fact that Harry Potter was kissing him, or the fact that he found himself kissing back fiercely. It was probably just his competitive side, not wanting to also lose yet another fight to Potter.

Potter leaned into him, pressing his hips into Draco's groin harder as he bit Draco's lip. They struggled against each other, trying to gain the upper hand both in their physical and intimate struggle. Draco was able to free one of his hands again and used it to push against Potter's chest. Potter's now-free hand did not pursue Draco's, but instead began fumbling blindly at Draco's belt. Considering this another bluff, Draco's free hand went to grip Potter's hair, holding him in place. The hand that Potter wasn't using to undo Draco's belt abandoned Draco's wrist to grasp a fist of Draco's hair in response, jerking his head to the side, breaking their kiss.

Draco accidentally let out a small moan as Potter's mouth closed on his neck, biting him. Potter briefly shifted his position so their erections pressed together. Draco let out another sound of part pain and part arousal which only seemed to encourage Potter. Without warning, Potter took a step back, grasped Draco's shirt with his fists, spun him around and shoved him. Unaware that his pants had been partially pulled down, Draco clumsily stumbled backwards, crashing into the kitchen table.

In one graceful movement, Potter reached down, grabbed his wand, and advanced upon Draco. He flicked his wand to the side twice, then at Draco, causing a force to lift Draco bodily up onto the table. Draco landed on his lower back and forearms but it sent papers, quills, and inkwells flying across the table and crashing onto the floor. Potter was on top of him again, pressing their lips together, clumsily pulling Draco's pants down.

Draco pushed back against him, keeping up the semblance of the arousing struggle that seemed to fuel Potter. Potter grunted when Draco managed to slip a wrist free, hitting him in the face again, but Potter caught it, pinning the wrist above Draco's head in a rapidly-spreading pool of ink. Potter must have used _accio_ to summon a bottle of lubrication, for the coldness startled Draco when he felt rough fingers push some into him.

Draco arched his neck and shoulders when he felt Potter smoothly enter him, a wave of pleasure and pain washing over him. A painful bite in his deltoid anchored him again, causing him to moan. Potter thrust gently into Draco at first, giving him some opportunity to acclimate to what he was experiencing. After a few delicious seconds of this, Potter pushed his full length into Draco, hitting something inside him which caused Draco's whole body to arch. Draco moaned again before he could stop himself.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Wiggs blinked slowly at what he saw. He gazed thoughtfully at the two men grappling silently on the table together, unaware of him. Apparently one of them had cast a modified _silencio horribilis_ on the room which Wiggs did not walk into far enough to breach. He was rather thankful for this. Silently, he turned around and went back down the stairs. After shutting the door behind him, he stopped to find Hedge standing in front of him.

"Where are you going?" Hedge asked Wiggs, moving so as to go around him up the stairs.

"Not right now," Wiggs responded, taking Hedge's elbow and leading him back down the stairs. "We'll go up later."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Potter, only released the occasional grunt of effort, continuing to thrust rhythmically into Draco, alternating between sucking painfully on his neck or kissing him, still holding Draco's wrist above his head. Draco's free hand, forgotten for a time on Potter's shoulder, slipped down to stroke his own very hard erection, his mind buzzing with pleasure. He had never been with a man before and so far this was far above and beyond any experience he had had with a woman.

The hand that had been supporting Potter so he wouldn't collapse on top of Draco moved to take a tight hold on Draco's wrist, stopping his movements. He squeezed Draco's wrist until he released, then moved that hand to join the other wrist, held above Draco's head. Potter gripped both of Draco's thin wrists with one hand, using his full body weight to press down on them as his now-free hand moved to stroke Draco.

Draco continued to thrust in time with Potter's movements, no longer struggling with any intention to escape. His wrists strained against Potter's hand as if trying to wiggle free, but it was really due to the spasms of pleasure running through his body. It didn't take long once Potter took him in his hand for him to reach his climax, crying out and shivering in ecstasy. He was not allowed to relax, however, for once he was spent, Potter's hand moved to grip his hip as he thrust into him faster. It wasn't long after Draco that Potter also achieved his orgasm, the first and only time Potter allowed himself to let out his own moan of pleasure. Draco watched his face contort and then relax in synch with his body, showing true elation for just the tiniest of moments while his body stilled itself.

Silently, Potter pulled himself out of Draco. His face was streaked with ink and sweat, a rather intriguing and dangerous combination. Potter pushed his dripping bangs out of his eyes as he opened them. Draco stared into Herry's fiery green eyes for what felt like an hour as they both processed what just happened, panting with exertion.

After buttoning back up his pants, Potter reached over to grab his wand, turned on his heel, and marched to his room, slamming the door shut. Still in the afterglow of probably the best orgasm of his life and once again aroused, Draco lay back down on the table for a second, still trying to get his breath. He had just been fucked by Harry Bloody Potter. _That_ was something he did not expect out of their 'partnership.'

He stood slowly, pulling back on his own gray pants. Taking his time, Draco retrieved his wand and waved it at the table. The ink drew back into the inkwell, the stacks of papers righted themselves, and all the quills returned to their holders. Within seconds, there was absolutely no evidence of their encounter save Draco's stained clothes, another erection, and the image of those heady green eyes burned into his brain.

As Draco entered his own room, he heard Potter's personal bathroom door slam shut followed by the sound of the shower turning on. This sounded like an excellent idea, so Draco did the same albeit much less aggressively. He entered his own bathroom and regarded himself in the large mirror. His normally immaculate hair was tousled, long strands of it pulled free from the ponytail and draping (he thought) seductively around his face. He was amused to find that the black ink in his hair made him look a lot more like his mother.

Draco slowly took off his clothes, folding them carefully and placing them on the counter so that he could admire the wounds he had acquired in the mirror. Potter really had done a number to his neck, throat, and down his deltoids to his shoulder; the delicate ivory skin was marred with bruises and bitemarks. Draco sat down on the edge of the tub and started stroking himself leisurely as he gazed at himself in the mirror.

This was a side of Potter that he was pretty sure no one had seen. Potter was angry and scared, with absolutely no self-worth. But he was also violent and cruel in a way, clearly having next to no hesitation when it came to hurting Draco. In fact, he was further incensed when Draco had cried out in pain. It seemed The Boy Who Lived had a dark side that he kept hidden, probably out of shame and fear of where that desire to hurt someone came from.

Draco bit his lip where Potter had, returning the taste of blood to his mouth. His hand moved a little more feverishly now, remembering how those green eyes had hungrily locked with his grey eyes before they had kissed the first time.

Potter wasn't the perfect savior he was made out to be. Draco was pretty sure that everything that had just happened was born out of Potter's need for control, even down to not allowing him to masturbate while Potter fucked him. It was a competition with him, like always. He had to make Draco climax first, showing he had more endurance and wasn't as easy. Potter even had to do it himself so Draco relied entirely on him for his pleasure. And honestly, Draco was just fine with that - the less work he had to do, the better.

Draco came again with a small moan of pleasure, opening his eyes to admire Potter's work again. Satisfied, he stood and went back to the mirror picking up his wand. He held it over his skin and chanted _internum_ _tergeo_ , tracing the wand downwards, but stopping before he reached the marks on his shoulder. He was going to keep those ones. Just for him. Or, if he could get lucky again, maybe also for Potter.

Feeling more calm than he had in years, Draco stepped into his shower to clean off the day's exertions. His mind was spinning with possibilities regarding how he would use this going forward.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

How the fuck did this happen. What was he thinking? Why Did Malfoy let him take it that far? He was pretty sure Malfoy wasn't even gay, but he certainly seemed to enjoy himself, and that was confusing.

Harry kept repeating to himself: _What was I thinking?_ The answer was pretty clear: he wasn't. He lost control. But that wasn't right. He _had_ control and it felt _amazing_. Malfoy had let him do whatever he wanted with no complaints. He in fact seemed to even enjoy the rougher treatments like binding his wrists.

His wrists.

No. What was he thinking? Harry glared at himself in the mirror after getting out of the cold shower. Harry remembered the feeling of power, of control, and hated himself for having enjoyed it. He had intentionally hurt Malfoy, pulling his hair or wrenching his arm and it felt _good._ He couldn't remember ever feeling that aroused with Ginny or even Alec. Where did this need come from and why did it feel so exhilarating?

Alec. How could he do this to him? Alec was amazing. He was sweet, safe, and had no knowledge of Harry or the wizarding world before he was dumped into Harry's life. That seemed like exactly what Harry should want. He was kind, and understanding, got along well with Teddy and the Weasley's. Why did Harry do this to him? He betrayed him by fucking Draco Bloody Malfoy.

What was he thinking?

Sure, Malfoy was attractive, but he was dangerous. He was a Dark wizard at his core, and Harry was still not entirely sure of his motives. He had no romantic feelings for Malfoy and that was resolutely clear. And yet, he still wanted to throw him against a wall and fuck him.

No!

Maybe…was Malfoy right? Was Harry irreparably broken? Was he always rushing off into danger because he didn't understand anything else? That explained his unrelenting dedication to his career, his willingness to dash off after a murderer, and to surrender himself to him. It was something that he heard happened to a lot of aurors after retirement, but never thought he would fall victim to it as well. Those aurors didn't know how to navigate a world that was no longer constantly trying to kill them, so they sometimes sought out danger in order to _feel_ something again. But it didn't explain the exhilaration Harry felt when Malfoy cried out with both pain and pleasure.

Fuck him. Malfoy was not right. Harry was not broken. He was not _addicted_ to his martyrdom, that would be idiotic. He decided he was not going to find clarity by trying to understand why he and Malfoy just did what they did. It was over, and was not going to happen again. He would explain this to Malfoy, then insist that he be able to talk to Alec. If he could just explain to Alec why this happened and that he was sorry and it was never going to happen again, Alec would certainly understand.

Making up his mind, Harry threw on clean jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed his wand, and pushed his now-clean glasses back onto his face. Once he heard Malfoy's shower turn off, he glared at himself one more time in the mirror before leaving his room. He pounded once on Malfoy's door.

"Yes?" came the infuriatingly calm response.

Harry threw open the door and marched inside. He stopped in his tracks, immediately regretting his decision. Malfoy stood not quite three meters from him, a long black silk bathrobe tied loosely around his waist. His wet silvery blonde hair was bound in a loose bun at the base of his neck, allowing strands of it to drape over his shoulder. The robe hung slightly open to expose Malfoy's chest and part of his collar. Harry could see several purple marks on his immaculate skin above his collar bone which Harry knew immediately he had put there. He felt his face grow hot and completely forgot the words he had intended to yell at Malfoy when he entered the room.

Malfoy glided over to Harry calmly, reaching out to take the glasses off his face. Harry was paralyzed, his brain screaming at him to fight, but his body wouldn't move. Malfoy folded the glasses and placed them on his nightstand nearby. He stood in front of Harry again, looking down at him with cool amusement in his grey eyes. Harry glared back. "Malfoy, what we just did will not happen again. It was wrong. You're not even-" he was cut off as Malfoy placed a finger on his lips.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Tell me, Potter," Draco asked with a delicately raised eyebrow. "Have you ever done something quite like that with your pet muggle?"

The spark ignited in Potter's eyes again. "He is _not_ my pet muggle, Malfoy. Just because you-"

"Well have you?" Draco asked again, trying to get Potter sputtering into anger as quickly as he could. "Done it like that? Have you twisted his arm, thrown him on a table, and made his lip bleed?"

"Malfoy-"

"Has he ever given you control over every part of his body and his experience?"

Potter glared at Draco, taking a threatening step forward. "Malfoy, I know what you are trying to do, and it will not work. That will not happen again, it doesn't matter what you say." Draco was not convinced, but rather pleased Potter was reacting just as he had expected.

"Oh?" Draco reached out and pressed his hand against Potter's groin gripping him as best he could through the jeans. Unprepared, Potter let out an involuntary gasp. What Draco felt there confirmed his suspicion that, despite his words, Potter was definitely still interested. Draco wasn't sure where he wanted to take this new part of their relationship, but he knew that he definitely didn't want it to stop.

"Fuck off, Malfoy," Potter snapped, slapping his hand away, finally giving ground by taking a step back. "If you touch me again, I swear I'll-"

"What, Potter?" Draco goaded, stepping forward to follow him until Potter's back pressed up against the door. Now that the table was flipped, Draco found he liked the passionately angry Potter better than the confused and conflicted one. "What will you do to me? Throw me on the bed? Tie me up?" Draco reached up, grabbing the hair at the back of Potter's neck and pulled him into a forceful kiss.

Potter let out a growl and shoved Malfoy away from him. His face was red with anger, though his eyes showed not only anger and frustration, but also conflict. Before Draco had a chance to say anything further, Potter turned and disappeared through the door, slamming it after him.

With a sigh, Draco went and sat on his bed. He looked over at Potter's glasses sitting on his side-table. Despite everything, Potter had kissed him back for just a _second_ before pushing him away. That showed the real conflicted desire. Draco wasn't sure why, but he wanted to surrender to that danger he had felt beneath Potter again and it was just a matter of figuring out how.


	6. The Ilvermorny Heir

**Chapter 6** : The Ilvermorny Heir

 _Harry stared up into grey eyes. He was on his knees, full of spite and determination though not without fear. His and his friends' survival depended on Malfoy not turning him in. Hermione's jinx distorted Harry's features, but a fellow student would probably still be able to recognize him._

 _And the Death Eaters had Draco Malfoy._

 _They had spent six years hating each other, and now it was Malfoy's turn to get revenge, tenfold._

 _Harry wouldn't plead; he couldn't speak. He just stared into those grey eyes wondering if this would be the defining moment for Malfoy, turning him either fully towards or fully against the Dark. Part of Harry knew that this was a dream, because everything was so quiet and that wasn't how this had happened. Bellatrix, Lucius, and Draco Malfoy had all been talking to each other. But now Harry just saw grey eyes regarding him almost curiously._

 _Maybe they weren't in Malfoy Manor anymore? Panic welled in Harry's chest when he realized he didn't know where they were. It was just the two of them now plus the impossibly cold hand gripping the hair at the back of his head. Harry's knees were on a cold stone floor, forced to be on display for Malfoy. And yet, he didn't turn Harry in. Malfoy hesitated, not because he was unsure it was Harry, but because he was unsure if he wanted to turn him in._

 _Was this the beginning of trust?_

 _He realized there were figures above them, moving over thick metal grate flooring. He heard Dumbledore's voice speaking calmingly. Draco Malfoy responded to him, his voice choked with fear. Harry couldn't tell what they were saying, it almost sounded like parseltongue. Harry was no longer staring into Malfoy's eyes, but maybe it was now Severus, Harry wasn't sure._

 _Merlin, what he would give to speak to Dumbledore again. To have a clear mission and path. To be sure of his purpose. There was a green flash and he heard himself cry out. A woman's scream echoed in his ears and a phantom pain exploded on his forehead._

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Harry slept and meditated for most of the 25 hours he spent holed up in his room after his last encounter with Malfoy. He told himself he wasn't sulking or scared, he just needed to be alone. He struggled to consider the case they should have been working on, but when he thought about going out to the living room to work on it, he could only think about what else happened on that table. At one point he heard Hedge ask Malfoy about him in the hall and Malfoy responded saying that Harry didn't feel well. He finally gave in to hunger, and exited his room at 9 pm, three hours before he was supposed to meet with the killer.

"...dangerous, that is why he needs to be kept here," Malfoy was saying. From his vantage point, Harry could see him sitting on the couch with his back to him but not who he was talking to.

"Yes, I am glad he has you here with him, Captain," President Fontaine responded.

Fuck.

Harry was always fully dressed, thankfully, and was currently wearing a grey sweater, so after pushing his hands through his hair (which didn't help) he determined he was presentable enough to face the President. He strode into the living room with as much confidence as he could muster.

"Ah, Harry," President Fontaine said, standing from the couch opposite of Malfoy and holding out her hand to shake Harry's. She was wearing a severe black robe today, accented with silver that framed her curvy yet muscular silhouette handsomely.

"Is there any news, Custa?" Harry asked.

"Are you feeling better?" She gestured for him to sit down, clearly avoiding his question for now. Hedge and Wiggs were already in the room as well.

"I am fine, what happened?" Harry asked urgently, not sitting down.

"The Captain was just telling me you are rather frustrated with being cooped up here. I don't blame you." Harry glanced at Malfoy to see his face blank of expression. He looked back at Fontaine. She continued: "We all appreciate your dedication to this case, Harry, but your safety is still of the utmost importance. I promised Minister Shacklebolt we would return you safe and sound." Her smile did not reach her eyes.

Harry offered a brief smile in return before speaking. "I appreciate your concern, Custa, but I will be way more effective if I can -" He stopped speaking when Custa held up her hand.

"Harry, I am sure whatever you were about to say would have been very noble, but you can't sway me on this. We are moving you to a different safe house. You have been here long enough."

Harry bit his tongue and nodded. "Please, Custa, what happened?" he asked again.

She sighed. "I think he knew it was not you. Two hours ago, well before the scheduled time, we received a report of a 'poisonous purple cloud' that killed ten people out in a Boston suburb. Shortly thereafter, we received a message from him stating his...displeasure with our breaking of the deal."

Harry clenched his fist, but willed himself to remain calm. "What else did he say?" Harry still avoided Malfoy's eyes though he knew they watched him. Malfoy remained motionless, sitting with his arms and knees crossed, leaning back in his chair.

"Only that he was disappointed we didn't hold up our end of the deal. That was it."

"Ma'am, let me talk to him. I don't think he'll kill me. If you just let me -"

"Out of the question, Harry. We are going to be moving you to a new safehouse tonight. After that, you will lay low for a week. If nothing crazy happens in that time, we will consider putting you back in the field.

"Wiggs knows the next location, currently only he and I know where you are going. I am sure I don't have to remind you that not leaving the secure site is of the utmost importance. I instructed your companions to leave as seldom as possible so they are not spotted as well. We will move you at 2 am tonight, so please be ready."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Thankfully, the move to the new location went off without a hitch. The safe-house the four of them occupied now was in western New York near the great lakes. They were nestled in between two hills surrounded by trees right on Lake Ontario about twenty minutes West of Sodus Point.

The area felt barren due to an early snowfall. Environments like this reminded Harry of his horcrux-hunting days, making him glad they were sleeping in a house and not a tent. The house itself was more similar to the Weasley's in that each floor only had one or two rooms meeting in the center on a spiral staircase. The first floor was the main kitchen and dining area, there were two bedrooms in the second floor, the living room area on the third floor, then two more bedrooms on the fourth floor. There was only one bathroom per floor, however, which made Harry quite unhappy. He had been the last in the house (of course) which meant he got the bedroom that was the furthest from the exit, on the fourth floor with Malfoy.

The house had a strict nautical theme; every room was decorated with shells, boats, mermaids, and fish in variations of white and blue. It was comfortable, at least, the living room featuring a beach view provided through a wall of windows that had been fashioned into looking like the captain's quarters of a three-masted ship. There were throw pillows and cots, couches, and gauze-draped lamps providing gentle lighting.

Like the last house, Harry wasted no time setting up their command station in the kitchen area. Once he was done, he poured himself a fire whiskey, and sat in the living room, reading a book about the history of Slytherin, resolutely ignoring Malfoy.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

That was how their days passed. Harry avoided Malfoy except to discuss the case, and took meals alone in his room. He worked, slept, meditated, and ran in tight circles around the house in the mornings with Wiggs. Malfoy seemed content to spend time by himself, mostly reading whatever terrible books that came with the house if he wasn't working on the investigation. It was hard for them to progress in the case due to a lack of new evidence.

Malfoy did have a team of aurors he left the house to check in with occasionally. He had about a dozen witches and wizards who were following up on leads, patrols, interviewing people, and researching various relevant topics. The progress was slow going. Their only real advancement was the compilation of a list of recent graduates of Ilvermorny that could be considered persons of interest. They also discounted the prophecy aspect, finding nothing but obtuse references which were vague enough to be applicable to nearly any common-day event. Even the surviving victim was unable to produce a promising lead.

It wasn't until the eighth day of exile that an owl finally arrived with the official Presidential seal. Harry received her permission to return to the case on the condition that he allow them to move him to different safe-house every five to seven days. This would be disruptive to their investigation, but he understood the necessity of it so he didn't argue. It was exactly what he, Ron, and Hermione had done when he was 17, after all.

Malfoy acted as if nothing had happened between them since...the incident, and was content to ignore the tension that sat between them. It allowed Harry to throw himself back into the investigation as his only focus. He had gotten to the point that he could only sleep for four or five hours at a time due to the recurring nightmares. When he couldn't sleep, which was often, he would spend the rest of his night meditating or reading.

Once they were free to return to the field, they decided to work through the list of Ilvermorny alumni. They had to hunt them down all over the country, and were able to eliminate most off the list easily with alibis. Concurrently, the team worked with profilers and psychologists, analyzing what they knew about the killers MO and thus what kind of person they were looking for. This was more of a muggle-approach to police work, but at this point Harry was willing to take whatever information he could.

Just over two weeks and several safehouse later, Wiggs informed Harry that they would be moving again, but there was a 'surprise' waiting at this one. With practiced efficiency, Malfoy and Harry were ready to move in an hour as they had converted their research into a mostly-mobile work station by this point. They said goodbye to the current safehouse that was a double-wide trailer on the outside with a four-story townhouse on the inside, and found themselves standing outside a small cottage on the edge of the Adirondack forest in central New York.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hedge and Wiggs performed their usual sweep of the house before permitting Potter's entrance. Draco walked in after Harry this time, but stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a "Hello, Harry" come from the kitchen.

Apparently Potter had a very similar reaction as he also dropped his bag, halting in place. "Alec," he said quietly. Draco looked at the man standing in the entrance to the kitchen. He was drying his hands on a towel, smiling at Potter. As far as Draco was concerned, he was an above average-looking muggle, about as tall as Draco, and appeared to be absolutely boring.

Draco stayed in the living room long enough to see Alec cross the room to hug Harry before Draco decided he would go pick out the biggest bedroom. He slowly unpacked his belongings as much as he ever did now that they were moving so frequently. He sat on his bed, trying to understand what he was feeling.

He didn't feel jealous so much as possessive. That was a surprising feeling. He knew that Alec would never understand the sort of pressure Potter was under, not to mention the investigation they were navigating together. Although Draco wasn't about to claim any sort of feelings for Potter, he did know he felt Alec would be an unnecessary distraction for Potter. It was surprising that the President allowed his visit in fact.

Draco decided that he was going to stay the course and Alec's presence changed nothing. Now that some time had passed since they had shagged, Draco's desire remained, but he had no interest in strange love triangles. It seemed as if Potter was more receptive when he was angry and initiating himself than when Draco advanced on him, anyway.

Hopefully Potter's impeccable moral fiber would result in him breaking it off with Alec out of guilt and would decide to take it out on Draco. Probably too good to be true, but it was a pleasant daydream all the same. Draco stood, smoothing out his fitted black coat and running a careful hand over his hair. In the meantime, he did not want to be held responsible for their break-up, because he knew if there was any way it was his fault, Potter would probably push him away entirely. He could bide his time.

Exiting his bedroom, Draco walked back out to the main living room. Potter and the muggle were sitting on the couch speaking in low voices. Draco entered the kitchen, shamelessly straining his ears to be able to pick up anything they were saying. This particular safehouse was more like a bunker than anything. It was partially underground like their first safehouse, resulting in sturdy construction and no easy eavesdropping.

He poured himself a small glass of fire whiskey and drained it, leaning against the counter facing out the window. He turned around and crossed his arms when he heard Potter say his name behind him. Draco noticed Alec exit down the hallway, probably to enter his and Potter's presumably-shared bedroom.

"I need to speak with you," Potter said cryptically, coming to a stop next to Draco, placing a hand on the counter as he leaned against it.

"I am honored," Draco drawled, an eyebrow raised.

Potter rolled his eyes and also crossed his arms. "Why is Alec here? It isn't safe. He should still be in London."

Draco's eyebrow dropped, "I don't know, Potter," he snapped. He lifted his chin, looking down at Potter. "It wasn't my idea. Maybe the Minister thought his precious Potter was over-exerting himself and needed a distraction." He pushed away from the counter to leave the kitchen and walk back to his bedroom. "When you're done playing with your no-maj, let me know so we can get back to work."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Bloody git," Harry grumbled. Most of his objection to Alec being here was that it wasn't safe, but it was also because he hadn't decided what to do about the Malfoy episode. He decided to go find Wiggs to ask him if he knew why Alec was there, as he seemed strangely knowledgeable, even over Malfoy, his superior. The President was compartmentalizing knowledge, Harry assumed.

Heading down the hallway, he paused as he walked by their open door and saw Alec inside. He was folding Harry's laundry with a beer on the side table next to him. It was strangely domestic and suddenly didn't feel like a part of his life.

Alec had asked him why he had barely sent him any letters since Harry had first arrived in America. Harry had explained that they had been moving a lot and had been busy, that it was difficult to take the time to do so. He didn't admit that he found himself enjoying a sort of bachelor lifestyle and actually found himself thinking about Alec and Teddy less and less. It wasn't that he loved them any less, he reasoned his brain was just absorbed in work.

To be honest, he wasn't sure if he was ever going to be interested in settling down, getting married, or having kids. He always assumed it was a phase and eventually he would want all those things he was supposed to. Ginny had been ready after she was injured and returned home, but Harry hadn't been. Now that he was almost 30, all he still wanted to do was focus on his career.

That and…. No, just his career. Definitely only his career.

But he knew he loved Alec. He didn't want to hurt him. But if this trip taught him anything, it was that he actually needed some space. When in London, he needed his routines and predictability in his personal life, but now that he didn't have much of a personal life, he felt much more comfortable moving around. It wasn't that different than the horcrux days, except now he was not nearly as close to his companions. This made it even easier to invest himself fully in his work.

"Harry?"

Harry blinked. He realized he had been staring at Alec, lost in thought, and the man had approached him. He placed his hands on Harry's shoulders and pulled him into the room, shutting the door behind him. Alec guided him over to the bed, moved some laundry out of the way and sat him down.

"Harry, something is wrong," he said gently, sitting down next to Harry. "Did something else happen?"

A surge of guilt and shame filled Harry. "I need a break," he said before he could stop himself.

"Of course you do, I am sure you haven't taken any time off since you got here."

"Er," Harry said, looking down. "Right."

Alec wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "It isn't surprising. I know you never sleep when you travel, so you are probably exhausted." He stood and started putting away the laundry. "Have you been eating?"

"Yeah," Harry said, feeling a bit paralyzed. He had been so full of purpose until now, and now he just felt lost, like he was back to being a boy. It was confusing.

"More than just pumpkin pasties?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "They don't have pasties in America, so yes." He stood to help put away the laundry, feeling restless. "When did you arrive?" He asked, trying to distract Alec from asking him more questions.

"Last night. Kingsley brought me when he came for a meeting with the American President. Frank brought me here this morning. Nice bloke."

"Hedge? Yeah, he's brilliant."

Alec, standing now, reached out, taking the shirt from Harry's hands. He set it back on the bed and took Harry's shoulders, turning him back to face him. He pulled Harry into his arms to hug him. "Frank told me about the threats against you. That was probably rough."

"Uh, it was fine," Harry said, feeling claustrophobic. "Look, um, glad you're here, but I am just going to jump in the shower really quick. It's been a long day. Month, really…." Harry pulled away from Alec and quickly went into the bathroom. After shutting the door, he hesitated, deciding not to lock it because he didn't want Alec to be suspicious.

Harry brushed his teeth and slowly undressed to get into the shower. He wasn't sure if he could do this. Alec was probably only going to be there for a few days, then he could be alone again.

Alone again...why was he thinking like this? He hated sleeping in a bed by himself, which was part of why in the last two safehouses he had just pulled the top blanket off and slept on the ground underneath the bed. It was comforting to have Alec next to him, but at the same time, he couldn't imagine going back to the quaint good-mornings and amicable tea times.

Not to mention if this madman was out to kill Harry, it wouldn't surprise him if he went after his loved ones. He didn't want him going after Alec or any if his other friends, so it made sense to distance himself for their sake. Harry still fire-called Hermione and Ron on occasion, and because they were also busy with their own lives, there was a comfortable distance that had grown between him and them. They were still all best friends, but he could take comfort in the fact that their friendship didn't depend on daily contact. If any of them needed something, they would reach out, and the other two would move heaven and Earth to help them, simple as that.

Alec wasn't demanding. He didn't need Harry to call him everyday, but he did need him to be a good companion. Maybe once Harry could go back to London they could reconnect, but Harry wasn't sure if now was the right time for him to be in a relationship with Alec. There was no way he could be a good partner. He had only been gone nearly three months and it was nearing -

Christmas, fuck, that was why he was here. It was almost Christmas time. Harry had completely forgotten. It was, what, the 21st? He did not realize that he had been travelling around America with Malfoy for so long. He vaguely remembered Hedge and Wiggs disappearing one day for the Thanksgiving holiday, and snow was now a constant presence in many parts of the country.

Harry shut off the shower after standing in the water for an extra ten minutes. He would have to tell Alec that he wanted a break in the relationship until he could come back to London. It was better than lying to Alec, not to mention the whole cheating on him thing.

It was probably 10 pm when Harry finally exited the bathroom into the dark bedroom. Alec had left on both side table lights and was reading. When Harry pulled back the bed covers, Alec took off his reading glasses and placed them and the book on his night stand. He turned towards Harry as Harry climbed into bed. With his glasses safely folded on his nightstand, Harry flicked his wand to extinguish both lights before setting down his wand. He pushed his back up against Alec who comfortably wrapped his arms around him.

After about twenty minutes, Harry was still staring straight ahead into the darkness, feeling vaguely trapped. He could tell Alec wasn't asleep yet so he didn't feel guilty shifting onto his back within Alec's arms. Alec's hand slipped up under Harry's shirt. Unlike Harry, wearing his customary t-shirt and sweatpants to bed, Alec wore only his boxers, providing an extremely warm presence on Harry's side.

Alec's hand moved up to Harry's chest and rested there for a minute before it traveled back down and dipped into his pants. Harry's breath hitched, for some reason not anticipating the advance. Alec took that as encouragement and began teasing his hand over Harry's hip bone, gently squeezing. Harry looked over at him when Alec lifted himself up onto his elbow and leaned over to kiss Harry.

Now Harry was really confused. He had told himself that if Alec tried anything, he would politely turn him down. But now that it was happening, his body desperately craved the attention. Arguing with himself, he kissed Alec back deeply, raising his hand to cup the back of Alec's neck. He screamed at himself to stop, the guilt slowly building in the pit of his stomach. When Alec's fingertips gently touched his quickly hardening arousal, Harry let out a little growl and movex the hand from the back of Alec's head to push him over by his shouldee. He rolled on top of Alec, kissing him much more forcefully, with Alec's hands on his hips.

Harry bit Alec's lip probably harder than Alec expected but he only let out an enthusiastically surprised little growl in response. He broke their kiss long enough to pull off Harry's shirt. Harry could feel Alec's erection as he leaned over him. Harry reached down, groping him aggressively, which surprised a moan out of Alec. Out of consideration for his housemates, Harry leaned away from Alec to quickly grab his wand, flicking it at the door to lock it, then whispered another _silencio horribilis_ , encasing the room in a bubble of silence. This was already a spell Alec was familiar with, making him grin.

While he was off balance, however, Alec took the opportunity to flip Harry back over, climbing on top of him. Harry growled and grappled with Alec, both men struggling to be the one on top. Harry was still armed with his wand however. " _Incarcerous_ ," he said in between passionate kisses, pointing his wand at Alec's wrist. Thin cords slapped around Alec's wrist, binding him to one of the bed posts while on his back.

"Wha-? Not fair," Alec growled with a grin, still trying to struggle with Harry one-armed. Now that Harry had the advantage, he pointed at Alec's other wrist to do the same, but Alec shook his head. "The one is fine, Harry," he said with a smile, probably not comfortable with ropes since they hadn't used them before. Harry instead deftly summoned the bottle of lubrication from his bag, reached down and yanked off Alec's boxers before he could stop him.

Alec wasn't really struggling anymore as it was clear to him who was going to be on top, though this did disappoint Harry slightly. Alec moaned lightly at the feeling of the lube spread over him. He wrapped the rope around his wrist in a way that allowed Alec to grip it in his hand.

Harry pressed into Alec, causing him to release another moan. Harry watched Alec bite his lip with his eyes closed, arching his back and thrusting in time with Harry. He was a wonder to watch really, with his perfectly timed moans and changes in expression. He knew how to perform as a bottom to keep Harry encouraged and enthusiastic. Despite this, he had usually been the lead in their relationship, patient and willing to teach Harry since he was his first male partner.

Harry tested Alec's limits throughout their night together. He tried pulling Alec's hair, being rough with him, scratching and biting him, testing him like he had Malfoy. He tried his best to not compare his night with Alec to the experience he had with Malfoy, but now that he had a taste for that level of control, he wanted to keep it. He couldn't help trying to find out if he could have the same experience with Alec.

Overall, it was a very enjoyable night which ended with them both spent and gasping. Harry still felt guilty for fucking Malfoy and knew he had to work up the courage to tell Alec. Sleeping with Alec, though, somehow helped break the tension between them, resulting in a much more companionable relationship for the next two days.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It was December 23rd and Alec kept attempting to make plans for when Harry came back home. Harry would try to distract Alec and get him on other topics, but it somehow kept coming up.

"Anyway, the deal should go through by the new year so I will be able to expand the restaurant into the new building downtown. We would be working right next to each other when you are at your office."

The two had just finished dinner. Hedge had gone home for the holiday, and Malfoy was gone somewhere. Wiggs was very good about giving the two of them space so they often forgot he was even home. "Alec...I have something to tell you," Harry said, leaning forward on the couch, putting his face in his hands.

Alec looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Last time you said something like that you moved to America."

Harry smiled a little.

"Well, Harry?" Alec asked gently.

"I slept with someone," Harry blurted out, staring at the wall, unable to look at Alec. "I do regret it, and I hated hiding it from you, so if you leave I'll understand but...I am sorry."

There was a long silence.

Harry kept talking. He couldn't stand the silence. "It was a couple weeks ago. It just...kind of happened."

Alec was silent for a second, unsure how to respond. "Who?"

Harry hesitated. "Malfoy."

"What?" Alec nearly yelled. "I thought you hated him!"

"So did I," Harry grumbled. "I mean. I do. I think."

"Harry, I don't understand. I thought -"

"Look, Alec, I can't explain it. I don't have feelings for him, it was just something that happened. I felt so helpless and angry at at the time because I was pulled from the field. I blamed him and I just really needed to _beat_ him at something." The words all came tumbling out without him thinking about them first. In retrospect, as petty as it sounded, it was basically true.

"So you fucked him? Seriously, Harry, that is bollocks. Look," Alec said, reaching out to grab Harry's shoulder, trying to get him to look at him. "I am pissed and disappointed, no way getting around that. But if you seriously don't have any feelings for him…."

"No, I don't."

"Well, okay, that's brilliant. I am going to go home tomorrow -"

"But -"

"No, Harry, I am going home tomorrow. We are going to loosen our relationship, okay? Let's just fuck other people for a while and see how we feel. Hell, some guy tried to buy me drinks last weekend, but at least _I_ was able to keep it in my pants for a full three months without fucking around."

Harry stared at Alec. He couldn't tell if he was mad or relieved yet. "So we…?"

"Are kind of breaking up, yeah. Don't worry, your stuff can stay in the apartment, I am not an asshole, but maybe we need a bit of a break. Maybe we can try again when you come back to London."

Harry nodded weakly.

"I love you, Harry, but you clearly need some space to figure your shit out. Bloody hell, Malfoy of all people." He shook his head, standing. "I am going to bed now."

"I can sleep out here," Harry offered quietly.

Alec paused before entering the bedroom. "I really wanted this to work, Harry," Alec said quietly. He disappeared into the other room.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 _Harry stared down at the boy on the ground. He was standing in a graveyard, looking at a body that had once been alive and thriving. He had been kind, as is typical of Hufflepuffs, but he was a stalwart student and had become something of a friend to Harry. He felt himself crying again, looking at the body, unmoving and staring._

 _He heard sounds behind him so he turned. Harry saw himself bound to a gravestone with Voldemort standing in front of him. Riddle Senior's grave. Harry already knew what was about to happen, familiar with the searing pain he would feel when Voldemort touched his forehead. Instead, he preferred to look down at the corpse of the boy who died for no reason at all. Just for being near Harry. He was the spare._

 _The familiar feeling of helplessness returned. A deep well of ineptitude and inability due to his age and lack of experience formed in his chest. An insurmountable task was in front of him, and it wasn't until the events of this night that he really understood that. He was an above-average wizard at best, skilled at flying and a decent hand at duelling, but what chance did he stand against one of the greatest dark wizards of all time?_

 _Harry's greatest advantage at that age was that he was young and reckless. He was inexperienced, but he was going to do everything in his power to accomplish what Dumbledore had set him out to do. He was impossibly stubborn and determined to do what he could to protect those around him. He was underestimated by nearly everyone, which ended up being to his advantage._

 _That and he had friends. Without Hermione, Ron, Luna, Neville, and even Cedric, now lying in front of him, he wouldn't have been able to accomplish the things he had. And luck. He had lots of luck._

 _While he stumbled blind through the Second Wizarding War on gumption and determination he didn't seem to be able to make it through his twenties that way. When he was just expected to transition easily into peace time, he sought out daily wars to fight such as corruption in the ministry, or trafficking operations in the streets of London. Now, with the rise of perhaps another Dark Lord, Harry found himself back in that graveyard, scared and overwhelmed. But he had to remember Cedric and all those who died, not for Harry, but because they also believed in what he was doing._

 _He knelt down and closed Cedric's eyes, for once easily ignoring the_ priori incantatem _that occurred behind him, revealing the last people Voldemort had killed: his parents and Cedric among them. He needed to focus, and not be distracted with personal matters. There was a lord on the rise and it appeared that Harry Potter once again had a demon to fight._

Draco Malfoy had a very strange Christmas Eve. He had left the safehouse before it was light out to meet with his mother at a private wizarding airport. Upon arrival, however, he discovered her flight was delayed due to snow. Irritated, he had returned to the safehouse to find a Harry Potter sleeping in the kitchen pantry.

For some reason Potter decided it was Draco's fault for not knocking first, insisting that he was not only sober the night before, but never got drunk in his adult life. Thoroughly confused, the morning continued with the muggle packing up and leaving, escorted back to the airport by a stoic Wiggs. When Draco asked why he was leaving, Alec's answer was a polite why-are-you-asking-that smile, and a murderous glance from Potter.

To make the morning stranger, perhaps two minutes after Alec left, Potter surprised Draco by throwing him against a wall with a flick of his wand. He was pinned just slightly off the ground, his wand stored safely in his pocket out of reach.

"So I take it you told your boyfriend?" Draco smirked.

Potter regarded him with an unusually cold expression. "Here is how this is going to work, Malfoy," he said, stepping up to him. He reached out, lazily undoing Malfoy's belt, though he maintained aggressively direct eye contact. "I am going to fuck you, but you will tell no one and we do not have any relationship other than as business partners."

Draco couldn't look away from Harry's intensely green eyes, though he maintained his smirk. He knew from the look in them that he was going to follow Potter's direction, but that wouldn't stop him from resisting. "Your talk went well, then?"

"Do you understand me?"

"Sounds like we might need a safe word," Draco drawled, trying not to react when Potter began stroking his growing erection.

"Do you not feel safe?" Potter asked quietly, leaning over him to bite below his ear.

"Just in case," Draco replied, more breathlessly than he intended, closing his eyes. They abandoned the conversation at that point.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Potter was different from that point on. He had renewed determination regarding the investigation in the weeks that followed, becoming even more single-minded. Draco did eventually notice some strange ticks about his behavior such as sleeping under his bed and only sitting in public spaces where his back was safely against a wall. He noticed that while most wizards didn't let their wands stray far, Potter was militant in that he wouldn't let his wand be outside arm's reach. That explained, in part, why Potter reacted so violently when Draco had disarmed him several weeks prior.

Draco enjoyed studying Potter for a different reason than when they were in school. Potter put forth the front of an extremely dedicated and competent auror, good at problem-solving, following up, and was even very personable with the people they interacted with while working. He was charming when he had to be, adapted well to all kinds of situations. Frustratingly, when returning back to their base, he would always revert back to his quiet, strangely sensitive demeanor.

Potter was struggling with something, that much was true. Draco had very limited interest in trying to help Potter solve whatever crisis he was in, but he did wish it made him a little more enjoyable to live with. The sex was nice, Draco would easily admit that, but there again Potter was a different person. In their daily investigations, Potter would defer to Draco in most cases, and just support him when needed.

In their occasional sexual encounters, Potter was commanding and unbending, treating it much more like a battle or competition. This worked for Draco by in large, but he did wish that Potter would let Draco touch him just _once_. Potter would remain frustratingly clothed in every encounter, and would never permit Draco to pleasure him back. It was probably due to some silly moral scruples he still prided himself on, but Draco found it insufferable.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Harry spent a lot of time in the Halls of Ilvermorny in the weeks following Christmas. It had been largely silent from the killer, with the exception of a few uneventful threatening letters. Harry still believed the next attack would happen in the halls of Ilvermorny, but wasn't sure what exactly was next.

In the time that passed, the media did finally launch a huge story about this new Lord of Ilvermorny who was hunting Harry Potter. The articles called him America's Bloody Baron (cleverly alluding to the Slytherin ghost of the same moniker) as well as other fun names such as the Heir of Ilvermorny or the Bloody Heir. Alleged sightings began to crop up all across Massachusetts, giving Malfoy and his team of aurors plenty of useless leads on which to follow-up.

Harry's previous suspicion had been correct; the last two victims had been drugged with a paralysis potion, like the cat. The potion was designed so the victim was still capable of acting as a sort of recording device for the Heir. It appeared to have no other effect, leading doctors to think it was purely Dark magic that affected the condition of their bodies.

After a relatively routine check-in with the headmaster regarding another alleged student sighting of a stranger in the halls of Ilvermorny, Harry decided to go for a walk around the halls. Wiggs accompanied him, as usual. Malfoy had stayed behind to organize notes from the day's interviews and wait for them in the headmaster's sitting area.

Wiggs and Harry took a path that ended up leading them towards a fifth floor hallway, far from where most of the dormitories were located. They were near the library they had once suspected could be the Chamber of Truth, and decided to make a stop there. As they rounded a corner, Harry stopped, hearing something odd. He couldn't quite make out what it was. He signaled to Wiggs to be quiet, and took a few steps down the hall.

Harry stopped to stare at a wall which was producing a familiar hissing sound. "It can't be. Do you hear that?"

Wiggs shook his head.

Harry began walking along the wall, no longer heading towards the library. He had his ear pressed against the wall, trying to understand the _parseltongue_ being spoken on the other side. He had only heard it in his dreams since the Battle of Hogwarts and wasn't even sure if he would still be able to speak it without Voldemort's horcrux inside him.

Harry stopped outside a classroom door, a hand held out to caution Wiggs behind him. He looked back at Wiggs and mouthed 'get Malfoy' to him who nodded and silently ran back down the hallway. Harry crouched, pressing his ear against the door to hear the voice inside.

" _...the hounds will descend upon this school in force, purging the population of the unworthy. Magic will be the champion of nations, uniting the wizarding world against the magicless, their rightful place below our heel. I am here to restore our place in the future of the world and finish what the Great Lord before me started. The power of our blood and our ancestors before us courses through me and there is nothing you can do to stop me!"_

Harry heard the small gasp of a child, forcing him to leap into action. Had the man been alone, he could have waited, but not with another victim in there with him. Harry burst through the door, easily spotting the tall man on the other side of the room next to a floating girl.

The girl was a young second or third year student, abrupt gurgling sounds coming from her mouth. Her body was grotesquely deformed and bloated, a shimmering black substance covering much of her skin. It pulsed in an organic way that made Harry's skin crawl. Blood dripped from her exposed skin, evidence from the multitude of cuts covering what the black goo didn't.

"Harry Potter," the man next to the girl breathed. He clearly didn't anticipate being interrupted, his eyes flicking around looking for an exit. He looked to be around Harry's age, with light brown hair that hung in thick curls around his face. He was pale and tall and if it weren't for the context, he would have looked like a totally normal and pleasant man.

Harry wasted no time, raising his wand and attempted to disarm him. The Heir blocked it easily enough, and the two began a volley of spells. Harry was trying to force his opponent into a corner away from the girl, but the Heir seemed determined to move towards the window. A few missed spells resulted in ricocheting glass and stone shards flying around the room. They were duelling mostly silently with very few spells said verbally. Because of this, Harry had no idea what spell it was that hit him in the left arm, causing him to cry out. What felt like a burning rash erupted on his skin, distracting him.

The man took this as an opportunity to leap up on the window sill and jump out. Without hesitation, Harry ran and hurtled himself out the window after him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"POTTER!" Draco bellowed, entering the doorway to the classroom just in time to see Potter throw himself out the fifth-story window into darkness. He ran to the window and looked down. Draco could just make out Potter falling through the air, but stopping just feet above the ground before clumsily touching down. Potter set off in a sprint after the other figure who was a good 15 meters in front of him heading for the dark cover of the woods.

"Bloody hell," he growled, turning to the stunned Hedge and Wiggs. "You, bring the headmaster to the woods. You, get this girl to the infirmary." With that, he more gracefully followed Potter out the window, glad he also knew the _arresto momentum_ spell from his quidditch days.

Draco could hear the spitting and crackling of spells making contact with each other ahead of him in the woods. Blocked and rebounded spells caused nearby trees to explode. Once he got close enough, Draco raised his wand just in time to hear the Heir yell: " _Confringo maxima!"_

There was a long silence that followed the cacophonous crashing of falling trees. As the ringing in his ears subsided, Draco could hear Potter coughing and he felt a slight twinge of relief. Wiping dust and dirt out of his eyes, Draco sat up with his hands propping him up from behind. He managed to hold onto his wand despite getting knocked to the ground. He uttered a _lumos_.

Once his spell lit the area he saw who he assumed to be the Heir ahead of him to the left, and Potter a little closer to him on the right, each on the edge of the crater the blasting curse had formed. Both men were in similar situations as Draco, coughing, trying to get their bearings. Draco saw the killer's wand sitting on the ground directly between the Heir and Potter. Before anyone even moved Draco could tell what was about to happen. "Potter," Draco warned.

The Heir and Potter looked down at the wand then up at each other. After a second's pause, both leapt into action at the same time, lunging for the wand in what felt like slow motion to Draco. The wand's owner was just a tiny bit closer to the wand, however it turned out Potter wasn't actually reaching for the wand. "Potter, NO!" Draco shouted, also moving forward. The Heir's fist closed on the wand, and Potter's hand closed on his wrist. With a small pop the murderer apparated, taking Potter with him.

"Fuck!" Draco yelled, scrambling to his feet. He looked around the ground and a short time later found Potter's wand, as he expected. What he did not expect was to find a tombstone a mere ten feet from where they were fighting, the ivy that had been covering it burned away. He noted the words 'G. Gaunt' carved into the weathered stone and mentally cursed Potter further. Thinking frantically, he knew he had to get a message to the President immediately as well as the Director. " _Expecto patronum_!" he yelled, holding out his wand in front of him. Nothing happened.

Growling with frustration, he tried again. " _Expecto patronum!"_ Once again, nothing happened. He had never managed to conjure a patronus, no matter how he tried after he left Hogwarts. He did not like to dwell on why he had never been able to, but deep down, he was sure his happy memories weren't quite up to the task.

With another yell of frustration, he ran back towards the school to find Wiggs and Hedge, making a mental note to return later to investigate the grave.


	7. Rescue Mission

**To the Reviewers!**

Thank you for your nice comments! It has been a blast. Let me know if you have any questions or anything.

 **. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

 **Chapter 7** : Rescue Mission _12 Hours Since Disappearance_

MACUSA was in pandemonium. Aurors swarmed the halls as if for battle. Conference rooms were filled with British aurors, come to assist in the rescue. It had been twelve hours since Harry Potter had been kidnapped by the Heir of Ilvermorny.

Draco stood in the preparation room outside a lecture hall used for case briefings. The lecture room was stuffed to the brim with aurors, waiting for Draco while talking in frantic whispers. He had prepared his presentation of the facts they had gathered as well as their hypothesis as to how and where to find him. The evidence wasn't great, but he had been up all night doing his best to frame what they did know.

"Captain Malfoy," a voice said from behind Draco. He turned to see Hermione Granger shutting the door behind her, accompanied by Wiggs and Hedge.

"Agent Granger," Draco responded, reaching out for a brief handshake. Granger worked as an agent for the British Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures though she wasn't there in that capacity. Her mind was one of the best the Ministry of Magic had to offer, so they permitted her a leave of absence of her duties to assist in the case.

"Please call me Hermione," she said promptly.

Draco's eyebrow arched just slightly, surprised at the offered informality and knew the proper response was to offer his first name as well. "As you wish. Thank you for supporting us on this," he said.

Hermione nodded firmly in response. "Of course, Captain. I just want to get Harry home safe."

"I am not your superior officer; Draco is fine," he provided.

Hermione nodded again. Draco was vaguely impressed that she held a completely professional air and seemed to harbor no grudge against him. If he had been honest, he had expected Potter's friends to outwardly scorn him. But so far, she seemed to almost regard him as a completely different person from their Hogwarts days. He was different, so he appreciated it, not that he would ever say that.

Donning his official navy robes, he entered the lecture hall followed by Hermione, Wiggs, and Hedge, taking his place at the podium while the others stood off to the side. Variations of 'That's Hermione Granger' rippled through the crowd as they recognized her. While less internationally known than Potter, Hermione and Ron Weasley also made it to some level of fame, at least enough to make it onto Chocolate Frog cards. They were instrumental in the defeat of the Dark Lord, after all (though Draco still privately doubted Weasley's contribution).

He placed the tip of his wand to his throat and quietly said: " _Sonorus."_ People began to quiet and shush each other as they noticed him at the front. "I am Captain Draco Malfoy, lead auror in the investigation of the so-called 31st Murders and the Ilvermorny Attacks. The purpose of this presentation is to inform all those present in the current information relevant to our investigation.

"First of all," Draco continued, his voice amplified to project comfortably around the room, "the Magical Congress of the United States of America welcomes their British brethren into their halls and thanks them for their support in this troubled time. We consider these events to be of the utmost importance. For those of you unfamiliar with the case, it is true that Head Auror Harry Potter has been taken."

Draco waited for the whispers to die back down before he continued. "The individual who took Potter brutally assaulted multiple students and mutilated an animal. He is also the primary suspect in the so-called 31st Murders. He is dangerous and he is, as of yet, still unidentified.

"I will begin by walking you through the facts of the case leading up to the events of last night as we know them to be." He flicked his wand at a box of files sitting on the floor next to him. The box opened and file folders began floating out, distributing themselves to all the attendants in the room.

"Inside your folder you will find a summation of the facts so far. Note, some of the more delicate details are redacted without further clearance approval. At the end of the presentation I will also accept a short Q&A in the interest of providing clarification.

"Now let's begin with the events in July of 2007." Draco explained an overview of each murder, also including observations Potter had made later. He then advanced to the events at Ilvermorny including the Chamber of Truth and the cursed children.

"And this brings us to the events of last night. It was typical for Potter to stay at the school after we concluded our interviews of the staff members. He had expressed an interest in learning the school's floor plan as he suspected there would be further confrontations there.

"Now I will read to you the prepared statement of Senior Auror Samuel Wiggs, the Auror who was patrolling with Potter last night up until the time of his disappearance."

Malfoy raised a paper and began reading from it. "'Head Auror Harry Potter and I began the night by walking from the east wing of the third floor, where the headmaster's offices are, towards the astronomy tower, the location of a previous attack. We changed directions slightly and proceeded towards the library as we once suspected it might be the Chamber of Truth mentioned in the investigation. It was probably around 8:30 pm at this time.

"'Potter stopped our progress, indicating he heard something on the other side of the stone wall. I could hear nothing. We progressed down the wall and stopped outside the classroom door. Now I could hear what could have been described as _parseltongue_ on the other side of the door.

"'It was at this time that Potter instructed me to go get Captain Draco Malfoy, Potter's partner. I did so. I knew Malfoy usually waited for Potter in the headmaster's waiting area, processing the interview notes they obtained over their sessions that day. I returned with him and Senior Auror Frank Hedge to the classroom I had left Potter outside of. I was gone approximately six minutes.

"'When we arrived, we witnessed Potter jump out the fifth story window in pursuit of the suspect. There was a victim in the room, a young female student who looked severely abused. Malfoy, Hedge, and I looked out the window to verify Potter landed safely and noted the suspect was fleeing towards the woods. Malfoy instructed me to get the victim to the infirmary.'"

Draco set back down the paper and looked back to the crowd to address them. "Senior Auror Wiggs' statement continues, and you can read the entire text in your file.

"Now, it is worth mentioning that Potter is a known _parselmouth_ , knowledge which emerged during the Second Wizarding War. It is also worth mentioning that the two surviving victims are stable though in a coma."

Draco then read from his prepared statement regarding his pursuit of Potter and the suspect to the woods. "You will also find in your file a sketch of the suspect. He is approximately six feet tall and presumed right-handed. This man is to be considered extremely dangerous. Do not attempt to apprehend him alone.

"Now the rest of this is conjecture on the methodology of the suspect. He is likely to have been raised by or near no-majes. We suspect this in part due to the early use of a knife before transitioning to a modified _diffindo_ charm. Second, he also appeared to have at least a rudimentary knowledge of no-maj investigating techniques.

"He might have had a recent traumatic event that led to the murders starting in July of 2007. We suspect this because he made a lot of early mistakes that implied a lack of practice. Also, he appeared to be experimenting heavily with the use of Dark magic and is probably working on inventing spells. On a related note, he likely lives alone due to this experimental nature. We suspect that he lives near Ilvermorny as he had an apparent affinity for the location.

"Moving on, as the suspect is a _parselmouth_ , he maybe a descendant of Slytherin. The blatant references to Hogwarts and the events leading up to the Second Wizarding War are also indicative of this.

"This task force has been divided into several different teams. The different teams will consist of the following: alpha will be searching the forests surrounding Ilvermorny, beta will be canvassing the surrounding villages, centauri will be researching various topics, and dextra will be split into more specialized teams, including the safeguarding of the remaining students of Ilvermorny. Please see your Lieutenant for your assignment.

"As for the press, you will find our press release included in the folder. This is all the information that is permitted to go public. Do not offer additional comment as this briefing includes more facts than we are willing to make public at this time.

"Now, this concludes my briefing. Does anyone have any questions?"

"What is it like working with Harry Potter?" one auror asked after a pause.

"That is not pertinent to this investigation," Draco replied.

"Is Ilvermorny going to close?"

"That is undecided at this time. For the time being, Headmaster Fontaine has sent the students who can go home early for a spring break. We believe the suspect's initial goal was to obtain Harry Potter. As he has done so, we expect this will break his current pattern, leaving his next moves unpredictable."

"Is the suspect American or English?"

"I suspect American. I only heard him cast the blasting curse, and did not detect an English accent, however I am not positive."

"Is he a Death Eater?" With this question, the crowd began to whisper again.

Draco didn't blink. "Unlikely, as we suspect he is American and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did not have many American followers. Additionally, the suspect would have been in his late teens during the rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Next question?" He maintained a stoic, professional tone, hoping that no one would ask the obvious follow-up.

"But weren't you a Death Eater in your teens?" an English Auror shouted out.

"Yes, which is why I know he was not among You-Know-Who's inner circle," Draco replied coldly. "Any other questions?"

"Do you know where Potter is?" another English voice accused.

As Draco opened his mouth, he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He looked over at Hermione who had stepped up next to him, _sonorus_ already cast upon her voice. "Might I remind the aurors present that Captain Malfoy was acquitted of his involvement in the Second Wizarding War on the testimony of Head Auror Harry Potter himself. If you are aware of something that both the Minister for Magic and the President of the Magical Congress are not aware of, please see us after. Otherwise, they saw fit to send Harry to assist on this case, therefore they obviously trust Captain Malfoy.

"Additionally, to throw unfounded accusations at the Captain is unwarranted and unproductive. The enemy is not in this room. We are here today to stop the next Dark Lord from rising, so please, focus on that."

Draco waited, watching the room buzz before he continued speaking. "If there are no further questions, you all have your orders. We think Potter's most likely location is the forest surrounding Ilvermorny. Your Lieutenants have a direct line to me, so if any significant discovery is made, they can notify me immediately. Stay safe, and remain vigilant. Thank you." Draco turned and left the podium, exiting the room now filled with talk and the scraping of chairs.

He was immediately flanked by Hedge and Wiggs and followed last by Hermione. Both aurors seem to have decided Draco was their surrogate charge now that Potter had been taken. Wiggs, especially, though he never said anything, seemed particularly angry at himself. Draco suspected he considered Potter's kidnapping his fault as he had followed Potter's orders to go retrieve Draco, leaving him alone.

Several more aurors joined Draco before they escorted him back to the school which was now crawling with aurors. Any remaining students were confined to their dormitories, the dining spaces, or the library. No student was permitted to travel the halls without a teacher or an auror present.

Draco settled himself into the waiting room outside the headmaster's office. The large comfortable couches and chairs had been transfigured into more utilitarian chairs, tables, and blackboards. The room had been converted to a field command station, conveniently positioned with fireplace and headmaster access. The rugs and portraits had been removed (much to the portraits complaining) so as to not ruin the heirlooms of the castle, but also to reduce the eyes seeing their work. Aurors came and went regularly, meeting with Draco to provide reports or receive additional orders.

 **. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

 _24 Hours Since Disappearance_

After meeting with several Lieutenants to provide direction in searching the forest, the fireplace erupted to life. Draco turned to see Hermione step out of the flames. She coughed lightly as she brushed soot from her official Ministry robes.

"Brilliant work on the communication devices, by the way," Draco said, indicating the muggle keychain attached to his belt loop. Hermione had charmed dozens of common muggle trinkets to be a means of near-instant communication between Draco and the lieutenants in the field. He knew she had come up with the idea during Hogwarts; they were used by Potter to communicate with his so-called Dumbledore's Army under Dolores Umbridge's nose. He could admit it was clever. "How is the forest?"

"Thankfully not as dangerous as the Forbidden Forest. Centaurs do live in these lands, but they have not made contact as of yet." Hermione was advising the Lieutenants on potential magical creature dangers as that was also one of her specialties. Draco nodded, turning back to the board.

Over the next hour or so, Hermione and Draco completed the searching delegation of the woods. Wiggs moved over towards Draco when he saw him stifle a small yawn. "Sir," Wiggs prompted, waiting for Draco to look away from the blackboard he was currently using his wand to write on. "You need to rest."

"Yeah, Captain," Hedge chimed in. "It has been, what, nearly 36 hours since you slept last?"

Draco looked at them under half-lidded eyes. "Gentlemen, we were the keepers of the world's most irresponsible celebrity. The Boy Who Lived might already be dead under out watch. I do not want my career as a law enforcement auror to end because Potter got himself kidnapped." He turned back to the blackboard.

"Your career will not end because you took a nap," Hedge argued, looking at Hermione for support before looking back at Draco.

"Have either of you rested?"

A pause.

"I thought not. Once you rest, I will." Draco began writing again, signalling an end of the discussion. He changed colors to start sketching out an overlay of their forest deployment patterns, trying to estimate when a team would finish their section and which sections would follow.

About an hour later, two aurors were standing in front of Draco as he leaned against the desk. He was holding a folder of papers, flipping through them as the aurors explained their canvassing of the town of Berkshire. They paused their talking, interrupted by the fireplace roaring to life. Ron Weasley stepped out, glancing about the room. He saw Hermione first and smiled at her.

When his eyes fell upon Draco, however, he surged forward, stepping between the two confused aurors. "Malfoy -" he started before Draco interrupted him.

" _Captain_ Malfoy," Draco corrected, coldly.

Ron glared at Draco. " _Captain_ Malfoy, may I have a word with you?"

"No, I am quite busy. Trying to save Potter, after all."

Weasley turned red, but visibly calmed down a little bit. He backed off, stuffing his hands in his pockets making that weird scrunched face all Weasley's seemed to make. "How close are you?"

Draco sighed, closing the folder he was holding and nodded at the two aurors who saluted him before turning and leaving. They were basically done anyway. "Not very. But since you are here, what can I do for you, Mr. Weasley?" Draco knew that Weasley no longer worked as an auror, but couldn't quite remember what he started doing after that.

"I wanted to know how I could help."

Draco looked from Weasley over to Hermione who gave him a small nod. He looked back at Weasley. "We were just about to join the last aerial search team to survey the forest before it got dark," Draco said against his better judgement. Potter owed him for this one. "You may join us."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 _68 Hours Since Disappearance_

It had been nearly three days of searching the forests of Ilvermorny after Harry Potter's disappearance. Morale had not failed, but it went unsaid that whenever Potter was taken by the previous Dark Lord, he had returned much sooner. The only real development was that they had found strange landmarks in the woods, though their investigators had no luck deriving any sort of relationship between them and the case.

Draco, Hermione, Weasley, Hedge, and Wiggs had been with a group performing an aerial search of the grounds for the last few hours of the evening. When it started snowing, however, they decided to return to the castle as their visibility was already failing in the growing darkness. Draco found he liked Hermione's company, but quickly grew tired of the side-glances Weasley threw at him. Mostly it was just nice to get out of the stuffy mansion on occasion.

Draco noticed that they landed near the point Potter had disappeared and suddenly realized he completely forgot about the gravestone. After dismissing the aurors to go warm up at the castle, he pulled up the collar of his thick wool robes. "I am going to walk the woods a bit," he told Hermione who landed next to him. He could tell she hated flying, but she did it anyway without complaint. Weasley, on the other hand, loved flying but found a reason to complain about nearly everything else.

"The woods? It is barely light out and it's freezing," Weasley said.

"Go back to the castle, then," Draco responded, looking to the others. Hermione, Wiggs, and Hedge all nodded to follow him. Groaning, Weasley followed them into the woods.

Now that the ground was coated in snow, it took Draco some effort to find the slight crater and clearing of trees that marked where Potter and the Heir's duel ended. From there, it didn't take long for Draco to find the gravestone. He brushed off the snow and read the inscription again. 'G. Gaunt.'

There was something sad about this place. Draco couldn't tell if the strange loss he felt was because of the gravestone or because of the nearby battle and subsequent loss of Potter. He didn't miss Potter per se, but he also had come to realize that even while Potter was moody, he didn't hate having him around.

Draco looked around the surrounding area. It was a beautiful place, really. The leaves from the trees were long gone, leaving this ghostly luminescence that resulted from snow lit by twilight. The snow had nearly stopped falling by now, leaving their surroundings deathly quiet. It was still cold out, well below freezing, yet when the breeze had stopped, he felt a subtle warmth around him. There was something magical about this place that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

The rest of the group was standing in front of Draco, about ten feet away in the crater of the duel. Even though he was separated from them, he felt comforted by their presence. This seemed to be a terrible place to be buried, forgotten and alone, and yet he felt there was peace here. Maybe it was because he was there with Harry's companions, people he knew Harry had trusted, and thus Draco somehow knew he could trust them.

He wondered if Harry was out in these woods and if they were at all close to finding him. If Draco was being honest with himself, he wanted to find Harry and bring him back, not only because it was his duty, but also because he wanted to be around him. The more he thought about him, the more he started to wonder if he was developing -

"Draco," Hermione breathed from in front of Draco, interrupting his thoughts. He looked up and saw her pointing behind him. Turning, Draco drew in a sharp breath.

Standing in front of him, its nose just inches from his face, was a huge, silver, translucent stag. It didn't take him long to realize it was a patronus. He had never seen Harry's patronus though he, like everyone else in the world, knew what form it took. "Harry…." Draco whispered, as if afraid that speaking loudly would frighten it away. It turned its head and lowered it to make direct eye contact with Draco, blinking slowly. Draco realized the strangely warm sensation that had flowed over him originated from the patronus. It was like sitting in front of a warm fireplace in the most comfortable chair in existence. He thought about his mother's pride in him when he accidentally produced magic or flew on a broom for the first time as a child.

It wasn't impossible to think that this beauty and inspiration came from Harry. He was clearly damaged and suffering, but deep-down he _cared_ about people in a way that was infuriatingly selfless. Draco had no desire to please people in the innate way Harry did, but that didn't mean he didn't admire him for it. Having someone like that around you, to support you and complement you, would be something to cherish.

Draco suddenly felt guilty for the way in which he treated Harry. Guilty. That was not a feeling Draco was familiar with. He had regretted the way in which he interacted with the man in their school days, but that was different than the guilt he felt now. But in his calm state of mind he could recognize it for what it was, accept it, and move on. He had designs to incite Harry into passionate anger in order to get him to fuck him again, but when gazing at the stag, he understood that his reasons for doing so were disingenuous. To take advantage of Harry in that way was deceitful and wrong, inappropriately masking the true emotions he felt for the other wizard.

Draco raised a hand slowly and held it in front of the stag's forehead. A second or two passed before he drew the courage to gently touch the patronus. It felt like warm, liquid silk with the surface tension of honey. The corporeal quality of the patronus was such that it resisted him, but he knew he could easily pass his hand through if he pressed. They stood there for what felt like hours, gazing at each other. Draco basked in the warmth that radiated off this wholly good creature, wondering vaguely what memory Harry had used to conjure it.

Draco felt certain now that they would rescue Harry, and had no doubt that, with Harry, Draco would be able to stop the Heir of Ilvermorny. With Harry at his side, he could probably achieve much of what he wanted to accomplish in his life. He understood now why people in the war were so dedicated to him and he only wished he had discovered this affinity sooner. He had been a coward in school, and while this knowledge terrified him he knew that Harry would accept him.

He hadn't felt this content and safe in...years; at least his entire adulthood. Even the happy memories of his teens were colored with regret. His only memories he could safely call happy were early fuzzy ones of his adolescence, long before he knew of Dark wizards and wars. It was obvious to him now that this was why he was unsuccessful in summoning a patronus even when the need was great. The spell didn't depend on the competency of the wizard so much as the quality of the character. He felt a little sadness that he didn't qualify for this sort of spectral companion, but he felt a surge of determination that told him that his time was not over. Probably due to the presence of the stag, it was easy not to dwell on what he hadn't accomplished in his life, and instead focus on what he could accomplish now.

The stag turned it's head and began walking away from him, snapping Draco out of his reverie. He cleared his throat, wiping quickly at his eyes to remove the tears that had unknowingly gathered there. He turned to see that Hermione and the others had walked up next to him. Hermione gave him a smile that was far too knowing and kind.

"Harry's alive," she said quietly.

 **. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

The group of five silently followed the patronus for what felt like hours. As soon as it had started leading them away from the clearing, Draco used the communication trinket to alert the lieutenants. As they traveled, however, it was difficult to keep them apprised of their precise location and heading.

The stag lead them to a river and began following it downstream. They were making their way down the slope of the mountain, the path dropping off on occasion, making their progress slow and dangerous. The stag always stayed in front of them and would pause to wait when it sensed they were lagging too far behind.

When Draco's distance increased from the patronus, he could tell that all the emotions and warmth he had felt in that clearing were due to the stag's presence. He felt only vaguely embarrassed that it had affected him so deeply. He wasn't the sentimental sort normally, and decided that his desire to be near Potter was probably due mostly to the stag. He did reflect on this cynicism however, trying to decide if his desire to change had been created or revealed by the patronus. It was an important distinction.

At several points during their hike, the group would hold their breath when they noticed the patronus stop in mid-step, flicker, and start to slowly sink into the ground. It would always right itself after a moment or two, and begin walking again, just as brilliant as when they had first encountered it. As they progressed, however, the frequency of its flickering began to increase.

"He's losing consciousness," Hermione whispered when they all stopped slightly ahead of the patronus. On this particular occasion, it halted for longer than normal.

"We have been walking for, what, four kilometers? It is a miracle that he has kept the spell up for this long at all," Hedge said, voicing a concern that they all had. "I can't imagine the effort that must be taking. Have you ever been able to summon a patronus?" he asked, looking at Hermione.

Hermione offered a little shrug. "I have, though I struggle with the spell," Hermione admitted, her brow creased in concern for the stag which stood frozen and listing, its forelegs lost into the ground.

Draco felt comforted that Hedge was also unable to produce a patronus and that even a talented witch like Hermione struggled with it. He knew logically that he couldn't summon one not because of his previous association with the Dark, but also because it was just an extremely difficult spell. Very few witches or wizards were able to produce any patronus, corporeal or otherwise. To be able to produce one such as Potter's was extremely unusual.

The stag suddenly sprang to life again and the group breathed a sigh of relief. This time, though, the patronus progressed at a trot, increasing both their pace and their concern for Potter. They slid down short slopes, stumbled over rocks, and ran through small tributaries of freezing cold water as the medium-sized river progressed down the mountain side. It hadn't been cold enough yet that year to freeze the river entirely, though there were many portions of it that sat under a thin layer of ice.

As they rounded a bend in the river, snaking its way down the slope, the river split and progressed as two waterfalls off the edge of a cliff. Without warning, the patronus paused to look back at them and suddenly dissipated in a silver mist. Draco and the others ran up to the point it had stood before it vanished and looked around. "Shit," Weasley breathed, pulling his robes tight around himself.

They had reached the edge of the trees thus were now fully exposed to the freezing but gently blowing wind. The waterfalls fell about 10 meters into a pool, running back down the mountain-side. They had probably traveled about 5 kilometers at this point, and all were wet, cold, and tired.

"Look," Weasley said, pointing down to the plateaued area below them. Hermione pulled out a small purse she carried and began rummaging around in it. Draco couldn't quite tell in the darkness and gently falling snow what Weasley was pointing at. "I think that's a cave," he explained. After a few more seconds, Hermione pulled a pair of omnioculars out of the purse that was far too small to have contained them. Raising an eyebrow, Draco decided not to ask, but watched her as she looked through them.

"Ron, you're right!" she said, holding out the omnioculars to Draco to see for himself.

"Now how to get down there," Weasley wondered out loud, stepping near the cliff's edge to look down for possible ways down.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're a wizard, Ronald. Let's just apparate."

"Right. Brilliant," he said sheepishly.

With a series of pops, the group of them appeared just outside the cave entrance. As soon as they landed a shrill screeching erupted from the cliffs around them. " _Caterwauling_ charm!" Hermione announced, dashing into the cave so as to hide, everyone right behind her. It ended up being not so much of a cave as just a shelter from the weather outside. It didn't progress inside the cliff-face, but was just a result of the rock overhang above. They had nowhere to go, but at least knew that they were in the right place. After a few more seconds, the charm shut off. "It's probably only cast on the ground out there," Hermione said.

"Shhhhh," Draco urged, as he pulled Weasley back against the wall of the outcropping, trying to hide in shadow. On the opposite side of the clearing, in between the two waterfalls they had been standing over, a figure had partially emerged from a cave. Draco would have missed him entirely if he didn't happen to be looking at that specific spot when he emerged. The figure disappeared again back into a cave that was cleverly hidden below one of the waterfalls. If you weren't looking for it, even in broad daylight it would be easy to miss the cave, hidden by the falling water in the rockface.

"There is a cave over there," Draco said, pointing towards the waterfalls. "But he already knows we're here. We need to move quickly." He pulled out his communication trinket and quickly charmed it to describe their location and the cave as briefly as they could. Once they secured Potter he could communicate more clearly to them, but time was everything at the moment.

"We should just rush it," Weasley said, "We already lost the element of surprise."

"Yes," Draco agreed. "If we just apparate near the entrance, we can charge in. With any luck he will have thought it was an animal that triggered it. Follow my lead," he instructed, pulling out his wand. In order to assure they would all appear in the same place but not on top of each other, hands grabbed shoulders and arms to connect everyone together. With a nod, Draco apparated them to the small outcropping that sat below the waterfalls, right outside what looked like an innocent outcropping. As he suspected, it was actually a narrow entrance to the cave. The caterwauling charm immediately began again, but Draco charged forward, wand in front of him.

When the wall dropped away from Draco's left, he turned to see a vast cave open up in front of him. They were in a sort of vestibule that opened into a much larger cavern. They could see a staircase carved into the cavern wall that led down to a series of connected stone platforms, carved into the cavern walls. As Draco moved towards the staircase, he could see the cavern dropped another 100 meters or so with probably a dozen platforms carved out of the walls leading down.

On the second or third platform along their path, Draco saw a figure running down the stairs away from them. Draco wasted no time, running as fast as he could down the stairs, yelling for the person to stop. Once the person paused to shoot a spell at them, Draco began a volley of spells in response, trying to stop their progression.

The cloaked figure was clearly outnumbered, so he or she wasn't really attempting to fight back. They did attempt to slow those following them by exploding furniture and knocking things down in the path. Draco easily pushed most of the debris out of the way, gaining on the person quickly. As they descended down another level in the platforms, at the very base of the cave Draco could just make out who he assumed to be Potter, slumped on the stone ground. It became clear that the figure they were chasing was likely to get to Potter before they could catch up, clearly intending to apparate away with him.

As the group beared down on the fleeing figure, an errant spell missed wildly off target, hitting the wall above them. "MALFOY!" Hermione screamed, he faltered, looking at her then up where she looked. " _Protego totalum!"_ she yelled before he had a chance to respond, a rain of rocks crashing on top of the barrier she formed above him.

Draco looked back at her and gave her a stiff nod of thanks. She nodded back and they resumed their chase, dodging around debris and falling rocks.

" _Relashio_!" Draco yelled. The purple jet of light managed to strike the figure on the leg, sending them flying off off their feet. He followed it with a quick _expelliarmus_ , catching the wand when it flew over to him. The figure scrambled back up to their feet, but was cut off by the group swarming around them.

"Get Potter!" Draco commanded Hedge, coming to a stop in front of the figure. He pulled off the hood, revealing a glaring woman. "Alecto Carrow?" Draco said, confused. He had expected the Heir.

Weasley, Hedge, and Hermione all ran over to Potter. " _Fulgari_ ," Wiggs said calmly, binding Carrow's arms behind her in tight ropes. Once secured, Draco nodded to Wiggs before he went to clear the rest of the chamber and ensure there was no one else here. It didn't take long for him to realize what kind of place this was. The bottom level of the cave served clearly as a torture area. Dried blood covered the ground amongst different archaic muggle torture instruments. The Heir's fascination with muggle torture was especially strange to Draco, as it was very unusual for wizards to utilize them. He saw why the Carrows were attracted him, though, as they shared the same interest in suffering

Draco saw that there was another small antechamber off behind the lowest platform. Looking in, he was hit with a wave of nausea caused by the overwhelming stench of decay. The room was filled with bodies, whole and in parts. Turning away quickly, Draco swallowed back bile. He had developed a pretty strong stomach over the years, but this was a first for him. He moved back to the group, satisfied that there was no one else living present in the cavern and crossed over to Potter.

"Malfoy," Hermione said, trotting to meet him. "He's asking for you." Draco raised an eyebrow, but nodded curtly at her.

Potter's head was cradled protectively in Weasley's lap. Draco ignored the glare Weasley gave him, his expression daring Draco to do anything to hurt Harry. If the situation, Potter, or Draco were different, he might have found the protectiveness touching, but as it were he found it unnecessary.

"Potter," Draco said quietly, kneeling down next to him. He didn't touch him, but leaned over carefully, flipping his ponytail over to the other shoulder.

Potter's eyes flickered open. There was a surprising amount of clarity and calm mixed in with the pain shown in his green eyes. "His name…." Harry groaned, coughing. Draco waited patiently as Ron wiped the blood that trickled from his mouth. "His name is Sayre…. Christopher Sayre."

Draco had brought his ear close to Potter to hear him speak. He leaned back then and nodded at Potter, watching as his eyes fluttered again and closed.

Potter was unconscious but alive, his breathing shallow. Carrow had obviously tortured Potter extensively, most likely with her favorite cruciatus curse. He also suffered from the Heir's signature modified _diffindo_ curse with open rashes and cuts bleeding all over his body in addition to the clearly broken arm and who knew how many other fractured bones. Potter didn't have any signs of other Dark magic upon him like the other victims, for which Draco was glad, but they wouldn't know the extent of the damage until they got him to Derwent's Hospital in New York.

With a quick _levicorpus_ , Hermione levitated Potter. Wiggs and Hedge apparated Carrow back to the Congress' jails, while Hermione and Weasley accepted Draco's arm in apparting them and Potter back to New York. Once Draco saw that Potter was taken care of by healers and his best friends, Draco quietly left, heading back to the school to aid in the dissolution of the Potter search effort. Afterwards, he met with several other Captains and even a Commander and the Director regarding Potter's current status and the apprehension of Carrow.

It was clear that there was still a lot of work to be done to complete the mission of bringing down the Heir. Potter's rescue sparked a renewed enthusiasm amongst those involved, especially the English aurors who were aware of Potter's attempts to apprehend the Carrow siblings in London. Draco was recognized for his efforts with a larger team of aurors at his disposal and an Merit Commendation, an award given to New York-based aurors who perform admirably in unusual tasks.

Draco intended to return to the hospital to check on Potter, but he found his time filled by meeting after meeting with various officials all over the MACUSA's headquarters. It wasn't until nearly 24 hours after Potter's rescue that Draco finally found himself back in the quiet of their safehouse. Hedge and Wiggs weren't even there as they were glued to Potter's side at the hospital. Draco was glad for the solitude and quiet, however. Without even realizing how tired he was, as soon as he sat down on the couch with a warm butterbeer in hand, Draco fell asleep almost immediately.


	8. Returning Home

**Chapter 8** : Returning Home

"Malfoy," Harry said gently, looking down at the blonde sleeping rather ungracefully on the couch. He nudged his shoulder lightly, trying not to startle him.

"Hmmm?" Malfoy uttered, eyebrows creasing as he woke up. His eyes opened and locked onto Harry's. "Potter," he said, a little startled. He sat up, blinking the sleep from his eyes and running his hands over his hair.

"Healers released me," Harry explained, knowing Malfoy's next question. Wiggs was hovering close behind Harry, clearly poised to catch him the second he showed any signs of faintness.

Malfoy nodded at Harry. Apparently he was unhappy with how his hair felt as he pulled the fastener out of his hair, shook it out, then began smoothing it back into its customary ponytail. "What time is it?" Malfoy asked, looking away from Harry towards the window for an indication.

"11 am," Harry responded, sitting down on the couch next to him. He looked at Wiggs and smiled, "I'm okay, Sam, really. Go get some rest." Wiggs nodded once at him, then Malfoy, and disappeared down the hallway.

"I'm surprised the healers released you so soon, Potter," Malfoy said in that bored way he used when he was trying to remain distant and nonchalant.

"I think you can call me Harry now," Harry said with a smile, leaning back on the couch.

Malfoy looked at him with a delicately raised eyebrow. "...Very well. Harry." Malfoy had hesitated as if trying out how it felt to say his name. "You may call me Draco," he said stiffly after a pause. Harry nodded, smiling with disarming warmth.

Draco cleared his throat after a pause then reached over to his black jacket still hanging off the arm of the couch. "Here," he said, producing Harry's wand.

"Brilliant, thanks," Harry said, taking the wand back to roll it in his fingers affectionately. They sat in silence for a while. Harry had a feeling he felt much more comfortable with the silence than Draco. Harry had a lot of things he wanted to tell the other wizard, but he couldn't figure out how to say them. While he was imprisoned, he had a lot of time to think about his priorities and his approach to both his relationship with Alec and with Draco.

He had told himself that while he loved Alec, he felt nothing but carnal attraction to Draco. He had forced himself to accept that this was not true anymore, though he hadn't been able to establish exactly what he did feel for the blonde next to him. He wasn't entirely sure what his intentions were with either men, but he knew the caged, loveless way he had been approaching them was no longer the correct answer.

Eventually, Harry stood slowly and looked at Draco, smiling when he saw a slight furrow appear on Draco's face. "I am going to go rest for a while," Harry said quietly. "If you are here, maybe you can tell me about your week. I hear it was rather adventurous." Draco nodded at him stiffly.

Harry's entire body ached, but he wasn't suffering from sharp pain any longer. When he had arrived at the hospital, he had suffered from severe blood loss, a broken arm and several ribs, internal bleeding, and various other injuries. His numbness was thanks to whatever potions the healers had sent him home with, but he managed to walk towards his bedroom with minimal limping, the only other sign of his physical trauma was his hand pressed gingerly to his ribs.

"Harry."

Harry stopped, turning slightly. He was surprised to find that Draco was standing behind him. He was frowning, and looked a bit irritated. "I'm...glad you're back," Drag said quietly, his tone not matching his expression.

"Thanks, Draco," Harry said. What he did not expect was for Draco to lift his hand and gently lift Harry's chin in his fingers. Harry stared back into the conflicted grey eyes, waiting for Draco to decide on whatever it was he was debating. Seeming to come to a conclusion, Draco leaned forward and gently brushed his lips against Harry's.

A little startled, Harry raised his hand, gently placing it on Draco's chest and pushed slightly. "I...give me some time, okay?" Harry said quietly. He regretted his reaction almost immediately as a shadow passed over Draco's eyes.

"Sleep well, Potter." Draco stepped past him and quietly entered his bedroom, leaving Harry standing in the hallway, stunned.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Atticus, what do we have?" Draco asked as he swept into the large conference room that had been designated the Congress headquarters for his investigation.

"Christopher Sayre," a tall witch responded, grabbing a file off her desk and standing to follow quickly behind Draco. "S-A-Y-R-E," she spelled. "Does not exist. However, a certain Isolt Sayre does, founder of Ilvermorny. Her line of descendants is miles long, and diverts quickly. We are currently assuming that he actually has a different last name but used that to make clear he either is - or wishes to be - a direct descendant."

"Isolt Sayre is a relative of-"

"The Gaunts. And Salazar Slytherin. Tom Riddle is laughing at us from whatever ditch he dissolved into."

Draco snorted humorlessly. "I hate it when Potter is right."

"How is he doing, by the way?"

"He'll live."

"He's good at that."

Draco smiled briefly. "Once he is more rested we will get a statement from him. He'll be happy to start work again, I am sure." Draco turned back to the matter at hand. "Any idea where he is yet?"

"No, but we have put out some feelers, trying to boost our surveillance of the surrounding area. We are getting hundreds of owls an hour with leads."

"Anything promising?"

"A few, but nothing has panned out yet."

"Good work. Keep me updated," Draco said as he stood away from the desk. "Get me a list of as many potential relatives of Isolt Sayre as possible. Cross-reference their addresses with the murder sites to narrow down where to start. Let's find this guy."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Draco returned home to find Hermione and Weasley sitting in his living room. After changing, peeking in on the still-sleeping Potter, and making tea, Draco knew he couldn't avoid them much longer. He sat with them in the small sitting room in an awkward silence. He had no interest in entertaining the two, but knew he had to be cordial. Hermione at least wasn't horrible, attempting to make polite small talk.

Weasley refused to look at Draco on the other hand, staring resolutely at Potter's closed bedroom door. He cleared his throat noisily, causing Draco's lip to curl involuntarily. "More tea?" he asked dryly, needing an excuse to leave.

"Yes, thank you, Draco," Hermione said nicely. Draco nodded once. It appeared as if she really was attempting to mend bridges. Interesting.

While in the kitchen, he heard Weasley speak in a harsh whisper to Hermione. "I can't believe he lives with Malfoy! Why didn't he tell us?"

"Shh, Ronald. He just saved Harry's life again. He is not a threat, get a hold of yourself," she whispered back. It was strange to have Hermione defend him. He didn't care if either of them liked him, they were irrelevant in every way in his life except for Potter. It was interesting that Potter didn't feel the need to tell them he lived with Draco, however.

Draco cringed when he realized he considered Potter a part of his everyday life. Or even the fact that he thought of them as roommates rather than it being a temporary arrangement. The fact of the matter was that he had become accustomed to his presence. It was true, the sex was nice when it had happened before Potter disappeared, but he begrudged thinking of him as anything more than that. A roommate with benefits. Not that it seemed like that was to continue, leaving Draco with some resigned disappointment. It was probably not a good idea anyway due to Draco's conflicted feels for the Chosen One. So what if Draco saved his life? It was his job.

He cleared his throat delicately as he re-entered the room with a fresh pot of tea. "How do you like America?" Hermione asked conversationally, turning away from Weasley who was making that strange cringing face. He eyed the tea Draco poured him suspiciously.

"It is a nice change from London," Draco responded politely. "I get to travel a lot more here."

"Surprised they let you," Weasley grumbled.

Draco looked at him, lifting his chin after finishing his sip of tea. "If I may remind you, Weasley, that you are sitting in our living room." He enjoyed the appalled look that appeared on Weasley's face at the use of 'our.' "Perhaps if you had made it as an auror you would have learned to read people. As Hermione said, am clearly no threat to you or your precious Boy Who Lived Again."

Weasley stared at him, his face rapidly reddening. The use of Hermione's first name did not go unnoticed. Hermione was on Draco's side in this case, and Draco wanted it to be clear he had heard Weasley's whispered objections.

"Right," he grumbled again, looking away from Draco.

Draco and Hermione continued making small talk. He asked about her service in the ministry and pretended to care about her magical creatures she worked with. He was tempted to go wake Potter himself when they finally heard his shower turn on.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Harry slept better than he expected. Due to his injuries, he was unable to crawl under his bed to sleep as was customary, so he slept on top of the bed. His night was blissfully free of dreams, probably thanks to the sleeping potion he had taken. When he woke, however, his body was sore and hurt something fierce. Unwilling to move, he spent a while laying in bed, processing all that had happened to him over the last four days.

Harry couldn't describe why he felt different about Draco or how it had happened. He already couldn't remember a lot of what happened in the bottom of that cave, much of it a blur of searing pain. When he had been coherent however, he had found himself wondering about those he loved, and why he was holding himself so distant. Perhaps the threat of death forced him to confront his actions and find regret there. He had been denying a lot of feelings he harbored around those near him, and he couldn't reconcile why.

He had intentionally pushed away Hermione and Ron, especially when Ron left the auror department to go help his brother at the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. In his pained stupor, he recognized that he resented how easily they both adapted to normal life, building a romantic relationship with one another. He knew that Ron had left the auror department because he didn't want to constantly surround himself with danger while Harry fed on it. Harry had felt betrayed by this, and found himself facing danger alone for the first time since he could remember. He had always had them - or at least the spirits of those who loved him and died - so he had never felt truly alone until the day that Ron left. Harry let himself fall into solitude.

He reflected on his brief interaction with Draco the day before. He had been so close to kissing him before he had gone to bed, but had hesitated. It had taken him completely by surprise when Draco initiated a kiss instead, almost as if he had read his mind. It had scared Harry for a reason he couldn't understand. He honestly was glad to see Draco, but it didn't seem fair to be spontaneous and potentially give Draco the wrong idea. He was conflicted about his feelings for him as he couldn't clearly see any sort of future with him like he could with Alec, someone he loved and cared for.

That said, he could admit he was impressed by Draco. He had changed a lot since their school days. At the same time, Harry could hear Ron's voice in the back of his head telling him Harry was trusting to a fault - it was _Malfoy_ of all people, and not everyone deserves second chances. But the man had come through and saved Harry. That counted for something.

Harry knew that he had made some mental switch while in that cave. He wasn't convinced, however, that the darkness he had felt within him when he was with Draco was gone. This made him question the sanity of chasing after Alec, if that hidden need was still there. Distance was probably the correct course for now while he figured out what he needed. However, he wasn't sure if flirting with that desire for control was good for him either.

Sighing, Harry sat up in his bed and managed to throw his legs over the side. He could just barely hear Hermione talking with Draco out in the living room. He wasn't surprised to hear them waiting for him, and was genuinely looking forward to seeing them. He was humbled by their friendship and knew he didn't deserve it.

Really, all this musing was immaterial; he should be focusing on catching the Heir. Since he had spent some time with him, they had new information to go over. He had to get himself back in a productive mental state. And yet his mind kept wandering back to Draco and Alec. Perhaps if he could resolve this, he could concentrate on more important matters. He had attempted to deny the desire before and that ended explosively, so he knew he couldn't use the same approach now.

Resigning himself to talking to Draco about it soon, he stood shakily. He made his way to the bathroom and sat on the side of the tub to rest and look at himself in the mirror. To say he was a frightful mess was an understatement, but he had also seen worse, most notably after almost dying via basilisk venom. They had cleaned off the blood and gore at the hospital, though there was little they could do for the bruising. His ribs were blotted in substantial inky black and green bruising, and his formerly-shattered arm didn't look much better.

A few minutes later, Harry was pretty sure that only flying for the first time rivalled how good it felt to have a proper shower. He knew he had been in the shower too long when he grew light-headed from the steam. Slowly, he turned off the shower and sat to rest again on the side of the tub.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Potter. Potter, wake up."

"Mmrum?" Harry mumbled, finding his eyes very difficult to open. When he finally succeeded, he saw three faces hovering over him. "Wha hap'ned?" he slurred, trying to sit up.

"Easy," Ron said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You passed out, mate."

Harry looked around blearily. "Oh…." He was still naked, though he had been covered with a towel by one of them. He couldn't meet Draco's grey eyes, an embarrassed blush coloring his cheeks.

"You suffered a lot of blood loss," Hermione said, helping him to stand and deftly tucking the towel around his waist as he stood, leaning on Ron's shoulder. "You have to be more careful."

"Right, thanks...oh, wait." Harry closed his eyes, adjusting to the light-headedness, a hand on Ron's steady shoulder. "Okay, I am good," he said quietly after the nausea passed.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Potter looked terrible. Due to several days of malnutrition and abuse, his body was noticeably more thin and frail. His lightly tanned complexion was pale and sickly where it wasn't covered in a film of ugly bruises. Potter's eyes had at least regained that brilliant spark, betraying none of the trauma he had just suffered.

"You two get him something to eat," Draco commanded once Potter was steady again. "I am going to start on that blood-replenishment potion."

"Wait, _you're_ brewing it?" Weasley asked incredulously.

Draco gave him a withering look. "Who else can, Weasel? Hermione is going back to the Ministry tonight, Potter obviously can't, and you can barely brew tea." A light hand touched Draco's arm. He frowned down at Potter who was looking at him.

"Thanks, Draco," he said quietly. Draco was both irritated that Potter _thought_ he could stop him from berating his stupid friend, and also because Potter _did_ stop him from berating his stupid friend.

He nodded stiffly at him and swept out of the bathroom, leaving the other two to get Potter dressed. He went back to his bedroom where he had set up a temporary potions station. The healers had come by earlier and provided everything he would need to brew Potter's blood-replenishment potions for the next four weeks. It had to be brewed nightly for freshness, and Potter would need his first dose the following morning. It required all night to simmer, so Draco tied on his brewing smock and set to work.

Several hours later, there was a soft knock on Draco's door.

"What," he called, irritated.

Potter pushed the door open and looked inside. "What're you up to?" he asked casually, smiling as he took in the sight of Draco.

"What does it look like, Potter? Brewing you this bloody potion," he snapped irritably. For the average person, Draco probably looked merely annoyed, but for a Malfoy he was completely disheveled. His long platinum-blonde hair was bound loosely in a bun at the back of his head, and his bangs hung naturally around his face instead of being tightly held back. His sleeves were rolled up, his brewing smock stained. He swore again at the small cauldron he stirred.

"Not going well? I thought you were good at potions."

"I am, but these bloody instructions are rubbish. I should have just followed the formula in _Advanced Potions Making_ ," he growled.

"Thanks for doing that," Potter said, not bothering to hide his amusement.

Draco ignored him, and continued to mutter to himself. "Theoretically, if I add more powdered fargut root slowly, it should stabilize…." He glanced up and frowned at Potter. "Bugger off. I will tell you when I am done."

Still grinning, Potter raised his hands defensively and turned to leave.

"Wait, Potter," Draco snapped a second later. "Come here."

Potter turned again to walk back into the room. He moved slowly, his arm gently pressed into his still-sore ribs.

"Sit." Draco pointed at the desk chair that was a foot or two from him. Potter obediently sat. "I need some of your blood for the potion to replicate." He lifted his potions knife and a vial and turned towards Potter. Apparently glad to be sitting again, Potter raised his arm when Draco held out his hand for it.

Just as Draco raised the knife to make a small cut on Potter's arm, Potter jerked his hand away with a sound that was half gasp, half hiss. Draco followed the direction of his eyes, and saw them resting on the Dark Mark now exposed on Draco's left arm. Draco took a step back, pulling down his sleeve quickly. He intentionally wore only long-sleeve shirts since the war to avoid side-glances, but he never expected this sort of reaction. "Potter, I am not going to hurt you," he said slowly, not liking the way the green eyes dilated.

Potter shook his head quickly, standing suddenly. His wide eyes darted around the room, and he began to breathe rapidly. When his eyes locked on Draco again, he almost looked as if he didn't recognize him. Potter pulled out his wand.

Draco raised both his hands higher, one still holding the vial, one holding the knife, palms open as a sign of surrender. His wand was behind him on his work table, making him feel distinctly vulnerable. He backed away slowly as he spoke. "Potter. Harry, look at me. I am not going to hurt you."

"Don't kill him," Potter whispered, the green of his eyes nearly completely overtaken by his pupils.

"I won't, Harry, just put down your wand. You're safe." He had no idea what Potter was talking about, but tried to speak as soothingly as possible. It felt strange.

"Professor," Harry whispered urgently, looking off to the side. He then stared at the ceiling.

Judging himself close enough to the table, Draco decided to risk lunging for his wand. Startled, Potter cried " _Depulso_!" Sending the wand flying across the room. He advanced on Draco, wand pointed at him.

Hands back up in surrender, Draco took a few more urgent steps back. "Harry -"

" _Expelliarmus_!" a third voice called from the doorway. Potter's wand flew from his hand and was caught by Hermione in the doorway. "Harry! What's going on?" Hermione kept her wand lifted, looking back and forth between the men.

Draco released a small sigh of relief, though he didn't take his eyes off Potter. "I don't know, he...is confused."

Potter blinked at Hermione. Draco watched his eyes focus and regain their clarity. "Potter?" he asked cautiously.

"Draco…" Potter said slowly, swaying dangerously. He was suddenly paler than Draco, his breathing still rapid. "Sorry, I…." Hermione rushed forward as Potter collapsed on the ground.

"What happened?" Hermione asked again, looking at Draco as they lifted Potter to take him back to his bedroom.

"I don't know," Draco lied, pushing open Potter's door.

As they lay Potter on his bed, Hermione rounded on Draco. "Draco, something happened." She didn't point her wand at him, but she held it visibly at her side. "I have seen him have a flashback like that only twice before and there was _definitely_ something that set him off."

Draco regarded her carefully, keeping his expression blank. He adjusted his smock to smooth out his appearance. "I was working on his potion and I needed a sample of his blood."

Hermione nodded impatiently. She was aware that was an ingredient of the potion so she didn't accept it as the reason for the change. When Draco hesitated, she prompted: "And?"

Draco slowly raised his arm and rolled back up his sleeve, exposing his Dark Mark to Hermione without saying anything.

"Oh," she said, visibly relaxing. She stored her wand back in her robe, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Has he reacted to that like that before?" she asked, nodding towards his arm.

"He hasn't seen it."

"Ever?"

"Well, maybe at the Manor, but the first time was...oh." Draco also sat on the bed as well. "He saw it first in the astronomy tower, I think."

Hermione apparently didn't need him to elaborate. She watched Potter quietly.

"You called it a flashback. When did he do it before?"

"It was right after we left Hogwarts. I don't even remember where we were, but something triggered a memory for him. He said later it was the smell, but something brought him back to the graveyard when Voldemort was restored by Pettigrew. It was like he was back there, trapped, re-living it."

"Can't something be done?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's pretty common for people suffering from trauma. The muggle world is just starting to understand post-traumatic stress, but the wizarding world has no idea. Our healing doesn't really deal with it yet."

Draco sat quietly with her before suddenly standing. "Shit, the potion. I need some of his blood." He left the room to go retrieve the vial and knife. Hermione helped him collect the blood he needed and promptly healed the cut they had made. Potter barely stirred.


	9. Mending

**Chapter 9** : Mending

 _Harry was crawling down the halls of the Ministry. He weaved back and forth silently across the cold black tile, tongue occasionally tasting the air for a trace of his victim. It didn't take long to catch up with the man he was looking for. His victim turned around, hearing Harry just as he pulled up to his full height, but was unable to summon his defenses before Harry attacked him._

 _He struck._

 _And struck._

 _The terrible thudding sound echoed down the dark hallway, interrupted only by the cries of one of the first adults who had been kind to Harry in his life._

 _Harry wanted to kill him, and was making quick work of it._

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Harry jolted awake. He pushed sweaty bangs out of his eyes, and kicked the already-messy blankets off to cool down more rapidly. He felt light-headed when he sat up, so he leaned against the headboard for a minute to allow his head to catch up. He tried to sort through the images swirling in his brain, but was already losing the grasp of what the dream contained.

He sighed and rubbed at his face. After sitting there for a few minutes, he carefully stood from the bed. Hermione said that with the amount of blood loss he suffered, it would take up to four weeks for his body to recover, and that was with the help of the potion Draco brewed for him. He was impatient, already tired of the constant light-headed feeling, sweating, and heart-racing that would suddenly plague him. He didn't remember much of the episode where he apparently attacked Draco the day before, but apparently it gave Hermione quite the scare.

He quietly left his bedroom and walked into the kitchen. Leaning against the counter for support, he reached into the cabinet to find some chocolate and chewed on it slowly, lost in thought.

"Can't sleep either?" came a bored voice behind him.

Harry scolded himself for both jumping and also for not noticing Draco when he entered the room. He turned to face the man occupying a seat at the small dinette table. He had been gazing out a large window through which he could watch the sun rise. "Chocolate?" Harry offered, moving to sit with Draco at the table.

Draco held up a hand with a slight shake of his head. He looked back out the window and took a sip of the tea sitting in front of him. They sat in silence for a while before Draco spoke. "May I ask you something?"

"Yeah."

Draco was quiet for a second before he continued. "How did you manage to maintain your patronus?"

Harry looked over at Draco, a little surprised. He hadn't expected him to ask that. "I...knew I had to."

"It was...impressive."

Harry wasn't sure if Draco meant the act of maintaining the patronus was impressive or the patronus itself was. "Thanks." They both stared out the window for a while longer as the sky slowly brightened.

"Was that quidditch game in our third year the first time you had summoned one?" Draco asked after another sip of his tea. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle had disguised themselves as dementors to scare Harry. It had worked.

"Technically, no. I managed an incorporeal one on a boggart before that."

"When you were...thirteen."

"I think so, yeah."

Draco was silent for a while. "...How?" He was resolutely not looking at Harry and was keeping as much inflection out of his voice as possible.

It was Harry's turn to be silent. "I….thought of a happy memory." He wasn't ready to share which one with Draco. "I was only able to at you that one time because you weren't actually a dementor. I almost died later when trying to fend of a hundred or so." He was rambling a bit. He took another bite of chocolate.

"When was that?"

"With Sirius at the end of that year."

"What...was…" Draco hesitated, seemingly aware that Harry probably wouldn't want to share though his curiosity was getting the better at his typical indifference.

"I didn't really need a memory that time. I was able to do it because...I knew I could.*

"That doesn't make sense."

Harry looked at Draco for a while before Draco finally looked back at him. Draco only held his gaze for a few seconds before looking back out the window. "A lot of things about that year were not...public knowledge," Harry said.

"I am getting that impression about most of your adventures over the years."

Harry smiled, looking down at his hands. He decided there was probably not much to lose considering how long ago it was. He knew he could trust Draco, he had proven that much. Harry recounted to Draco the time turner Hermione had, rescuing Buckbeak and Sirius, and finally the events down at the lake which allowed him to summon his patronus. Most notably how he believed he had seen his father chase away the dementors, but it was actually his future self.

After the conclusion of his story, they sat quietly again for a while. The sky was lightened significantly by now, the sun peeking up over the horizon. "I can't believe you three had a time turner. And all you did with it was take extra classes then save a hippogriff and a convict. You could have gone back in time and saved your parents, or killed the Dark Lord when he was a child."

Harry chuckled. "When you put it that way, it does sound a little silly."

Draco spoke again after another stretch of silence. "They say only those pure of heart can conjure a patronus." He could have been discussing the weather.

"So they say."

"Snape can conjure one, even."

"Yeah." Harry realized what Draco was trying to get at and looked at him thoughtfully. Draco maintained his gaze stubbornly out the window. "I can teach you," Harry offered.

Draco's eyes flicked over at Harry without turning his head, as if trying to detect if Harry was patronizing him. Harry looked at him steadily, waiting. Draco gave a single nod then stood from the table, moving to stand next to Harry. Harry found himself supremely aware of Draco's close presence, though he didn't move. He had the inclination to touch Draco's hand, but resisted.

Draco reached down and broke off a chunk of the chocolate sitting in front of Harry. He popped it into his mouth and walked away from the table, back towards his bedroom. "I'll get your potion," Draco said quietly before he left the room.

Harry sat back in his chair, still staring out the window. He wondered if Draco would ever be able to summon a patronus. Perhaps this was another attempt at redemption for Draco in order to prove that he wasn't a Dark wizard. As he said, even Snape was able to cast a patronus, showing his true character. Harry hoped, for Draco's sake, he was able to teach him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Atticus, come on, let's go," Draco said impatiently. Hedge had just come by to notify them that Potter was ready to provide a statement.

"Just a second, Captain," Atticus said, finishing what she was writing with a flourish. She packed up her quill and parchment. Draco noted she wore her newer robes, probably because she knew she was meeting the Chosen One today.

"Don't be nervous, Lieutenant. Potter won't bite."

She smiled. "How long have you known each other, sir?" she asked curiously.

Draco glanced at her before answering. He was still surprised how Americans retained so little of the war. Granted, he was five years Atticus' senior and his role in the war had been down-played more so than that of his parents. That said, his surname was unusual enough that he was surprised more people didn't connect them. "Since we were eleven," he said distantly.

"Or, right, you went to Hogwarts with him," Atticus said as they exited the lift to the atrium.

"Correct. Now as his location is still classified, I will not tell you where we are going and I will blind and confuse you before we apparate." Atticus nodded solemnly.

Once out of the building in the safety of the alley, Draco pointed his wand at her. " _Obscuro_. _Confundus_." Atticus' eyes glazed over and she swayed. Draco quickly gripped her arm and apparated them as close to the safehouse as they could get.

Once inside, he took her down to the basement floor. Hedge had transfigured his bedroom into a makeshift interview room that was safely nondescript. Once he had her safely inside, he pointed his wand again. " _Finite._ "

Atticus blinked and looked around. Hedge stood near the door as a sentry. "Hey, Frank," Atticus said lightly as she stood from the chair, smoothing out her robe.

"Evening, Cara," he responded amicably.

A few minutes passed before the door opened and Potter entered followed by Wiggs. Potter introduced himself, shaking Atticus' hand. He was still rather pale, a light sweat on his brow. "You sure about this, Potter?" Draco asked quietly, frowning at him.

"You sound like Hedge," he responded with a tired smile. "Yeah, I am fine, Draco. Thanks." He sat down in one chair and thanked Wiggs who sat a glass next to him, casting _aguamenti_ inside it. Potter took a sip of water as Atticus set up her self-writing quill and lined up several memory vials.

Once Potter nodded to Draco that he was ready, Draco spoke. "Do you understand that we will be documenting the interview by utilizing a government-issued self-writing quill as well as memory stores?"

"Yes," Potter said clearly.

"Let it be known that the witnesses consent to submitting their memory of this specific interview into evidence. As the lead investigator, I, Captain Draco Lucius Malfoy of the Major Investigations Division of MACUSA, will lead in the interview. The witnesses are..." As Draco pointed at each other person present in the room they also stated their name and position.

"Please state your name and position for the record," Draco instructed to Potter.

"Harry James Potter, Head Auror of the Auror Office of the British Ministry of Magic."

"Do you consent to submitting your memory of the events discussed today into evidence?*

"Yes."

"Are you aware that your right as a witness prohibits your testimony to be used against you or your character?"

"I am."

"Then let's begin."

Draco sat down opposite Potter. He glanced at Atticus, her role in the interview was monitoring the transcript quill. She nodded back to confirm that the quill was progressing properly and there was no issue with the recording. "Can you please begin with what led up to your disappearance on the night of January 5th, 2009?"

Potter launched into a description of discovering the Heir at Ilvermorny. He recounted as much of what he had heard in _parseltongue_ as he could remember. Once he got to the point of apparating with the Heir he had to pause to drink water.

"In your own time," Draco said calmly as Potter apologized for stopping.

"We landed in a snowfield outside the waterfall cave where I was later rescued. As I did not have my wand, I fought physically with the suspect. He eventually stunned me and took me inside. Once inside, the suspect brought me to the bottom of the cavern and bound me. He began asking questions about the events that took place both before and during the Second Wizarding War."

"What kind of questions?" Draco asked.

"Regarding Voldemort. How did I survive the Killing Curse both times, where were the horcruxes, how did I destroy them, what was it like to be a horcrux, what ritual spell did they use to resurrect him, what was my mental connection with him like…. Those sorts of questions. I did not give him anything so he tortured me. I eventually passed out.

"When I woke up Alecto Carrow was there and they resumed torturing me as they questioned me. I am not sure how long that lasted." Potter spoke robotically, almost as if he was recounting the experience of a stranger. "The suspect told me his name was Christopher Sayre and he claimed to be the next Dark Lord rising. I think he was hoping to intimidate me into talking.

"I had no idea I was down there for three days. I was in and out of consciousness at one point as they brought in muggles. One at a time, they would harvest blood from them, storing it in large barrels. Eventually, Sayre left me alone with Carrow for...I am not sure how long. It was during this time that she let her guard down and I was able to get her wand, knocking her out for a brief amount of time. I was able to cast a patronus charm. Carrow was furious; I managed to stay awake almost until my rescue."

"Head Auror," Draco said quietly, "What method of torture did they use?"

"Carrow used primarily the _Cruciatus_ curse. Sayre was attempting to combine _diffindo_ , the cutting charm, and _defodio_ , the gouging charm. He would compare the effects of the spells to that of different knives." Another drink of water. "He was experimenting with variations on _multis vulneribus ardentem_. When I didn't answer his questions he would practice on me then heal the wounds," Potter finished with no inflection, staring at a point over Draco's shoulder.

" _Multis vulneribus ardentem,_ " Draco repeated, going over the Latin in his head. "Some sort of spreading burn curse?"

"He was mimicking the effects of _flagrante_ , trying to create a sort of burning rash of cuts. Maximum coverage."

Draco nodded, glancing at Atticus again to get a nod that they were still progressing well. "The muggles you saw: were they from England?"

"I don't know, but I assume at least some of them were. They were always petrified or immobilized when they entered the cavern. It was a little shocking to realize the lord to which Carrow referred during my investigation in London was Christopher Sayre. I don't know why they trafficked muggles from Europe for their sacrifices here."

"How did they drain them?"

"Sayre would cut them then hang them upside down to drain into large tubs. I believe they used a lot of this blood to stage that astronomy tower scene, but I don't know to what purpose. Intimidation, perhaps. He mentioned blood magic at several points."

"What do you know of blood magic?"

"Well, blood magic, as I understand it, doesn't work like that."

"What do you mean?"

"As far as I know, blood magic is what protected me as I grew up. Because my mother died to save me, my aunt's blood was able to protect me as long as I was underage and could call that place home. Blood magic is something that depends on a connection, not simply as a…ritual ingredient. I think he was more obsessed with blood than anything."

Draco nodded, watching Potter carefully. "Head Auror, do you believe he succeeded in creating a horcrux?"

Harry was quiet for quite some time as he reflected. "No. I think he asked too many questions about what it would feel like to have one. I believe if he succeeded he wouldn't have asked some of those questions."

"Did they ever talk about their mission or anything like that? Next moves?"

Potter took another drink if water and looked down. "I can't quite recall anything besides blood magic and needing muggles. I think he wasn't expecting to actually capture me that soon. He has plans, but he didn't say what they were. Once he realized I wouldn't give him anything, he just repeated rubbish about being a Dark Lord. I don't think he quite knew what to do with me. I don't know why he didn't kill me," Potter finished quietly.

Draco nodded. "Thank you, Head Auror. I think that is enough for now."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Harry sat down carefully in front of the fireplace Saturday morning, the day after his interview. He was able to sleep the night before, so for the first time since his rescue he felt relatively rested. He was grateful that Draco and the others had made themselves scarce, as today he was forcing himself to face a different sort of challenge. He looked quietly at the fire as the image of Alec blazed to life in front of him.

"How are you?" Alec asked gently when Harry didn't speak immediately.

"I'm okay," Harry said with a comforting smile.

"I wish I could visit you."

"It's too dangerous."

"That's what Hermione said. Why can't I just use the fireplace to travel?" Alec asked in a way that said he already knew the answer but didn't want to believe it.

"It's too far - you'd get lost or splinched. The floo network is really only a local transportation method," Harry explained quietly. They were quiet for a second. "I miss you," Harry said after a pause, though he immediately felt guilty upon saying it.

Alec looked at him kindly. "Harry, I hate this. I can't be mad at you." He paused. "What if you had died?" Alec said in a strained strained. He shook his head. "I never would have forgiven myself for letting this end like that."

Harry looked up at the fire and smiled ruefully. "You should know by now I am pretty difficult to kill."

Alec smiled a bit humorlessly. "Even still. Don't get me wrong, I haven't changed my mind, but I want you to know that I love you."

"I love you, too, Alec."

Alec paused, smiling at Harry. "Do you want to talk about what happened at all?"

"Not really."

"Understandable."

They were awkwardly quiet for a few seconds. "I am sorry, you know," Harry said, refusing to look away from Alec. "For what I did."

"I am not going to say it is okay, Harry, but I want you to understand that I do have every intention of sweeping you off your feet when you return to London. Have fun with your Malfoy if you want, but try not to get too attached, hm?"

Harry blinked at Alec. "What? Really?"

"As long as I get to snog a couple blokes, too," Alec said casually with a half shrug. "I have thought about it a lot, Harry. I think this could be good for us. We went into it pretty fast. You were young and didn't really have much of a chance to date around before we settled down."

Harry nodded. He had confessed his lack of experience with both genders when they first started dating. Alec had had many partners and was enriched by it, leaving Harry with not a small amount of anxiety in the beginning. He was also four years older than Harry, which Harry never mentioned bothered him a little because he knew it was unreasonable. "Are you sure?"

"Are _you_ sure, is a better question."

Harry blinked at him. "What wouldn't I be sure about? I fucked up, but you are giving me both an out as well as a way back in. I don't know how I could have been more lucky."

Alec smiled. "Promise me you'll stay safe, Harry. As safe as you can be."

Harry nodded, smiling back. "Yeah, I will."

"Can I call you next Saturday?" Alec asked, a familiar confidence returning to his voice.

Harry grinned at him. "Sounds good."

Alec winked at him before his image flickered and faded from the fire. Harry sat back, a hand subconsciously going back to his ribs to comfort the soreness that remained there. He had been dreading fire-calling Alec, but now had no idea why. Alec was amazingly understanding and patient, as always. The fact that Alec still trusted Harry enough to remain friends with the near-guarantee of a renewed relationship when he returned to London felt freeing. He didn't have to worry about offending or disappointing him and had the freedom to figure out whatever impulse had driven him to Draco.

He stood slowly, leaning against the mantle as he stared into the fire. Now Harry just had to figure out what his intention was with Draco. As frustrating and insufferable as he sometimes was, Harry couldn't deny that he was attracted to him. This was all assuming Draco was at all receptive; occasionally Harry caught Draco watching him in ways he thought could hint at his interest, not to mention the kiss when Harry had returned. On the contrary, there were other days it seemed Draco couldn't wait to get away from Harry.

Harry sighed and pushed thoughts of Draco and Alec from his mind. Now it was time for him to contact Ron to catch up. He had promised himself he would be a better friend to both Ron and Hermione, and that started with reaching out to them on occasion and not waiting for them to make the first contact.

Harry reached for the small jar of floo powder sitting on the mantle. He tossed a small handful in, addressing his call to the Weasley-Granger house. "Hey, mate," he said with an easy smile as Ron's face appeared in the fire.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Draco left his bedroom not long after sunrise. He had to get to the Congress as soon as possible, and he knew Potter woke up early and needed his potion first thing with some food. He brought the potion to the kitchen, setting it on the table. It was odd; he didn't hear anyone else in the house.

It had been a few days since Potter's interview and he was already insufferably difficult. He insisted on trying to do strenuous things, convinced he was better. By the time Draco finished making coffee the front door opened. Wiggs followed Potter inside, a rare smile on his face at whatever Potter had just finished saying. Wiggs was gently supporting Potter's arm as he leaned slightly against him. He helped the other man remove his cloak, wet from the melting snow. After storing it in the broom closet, he guided Potter to the kitchen and sat him down at the table next to Draco. Potter was both pale and flush at the same time, though his eyes were bright.

"A walk?" Draco asked with a frown.

"I'm fine, Draco," Potter said easily after he thanked Wiggs.

Draco looked at Wiggs. "He shouldn't be on walks."

Wiggs gave Draco a look that clearly said 'you try stopping him.' Draco rolled his eyes as Wiggs poured himself a cup of coffee and raised the mug in thanks to Draco before heading back down the hall to his bedroom. "One of these days you will remember I am an auror, not your healer, Potter," Draco said irritably. "Toast. Drink that." He set down a plate with two slices of buttered bread, toasted it with a wave of his wand, and pushed the vial towards Potter. Potter thanked Draco then picked up the toast to take a bite, still trying to calm his breathing from his outing.

"I know you were tortured, Potter, but did something else happen down there?" Draco suddenly asked before he could stop himself, sitting down next to Potter. "You're different," he clarified, lifting his chin to imply indifference.

"Having a near-death experience helps you straighten out your priorities, I suppose." Potter gazed at the vial of red liquid for a minute before knocking it back. "Just realized some things about myself."

Potter glanced up at Draco, registered his 'well?' expression and looked back down at his half-eaten toast. "What, you want to be my priest, too?"

"Is that a muggle thing?"

"Thankfully," Potter sighed. "Look, Draco, I appreciate all of what you are doing for me, I do." He reached out and briefly rested a hand on Draco's arm. "But I don't think I can tell you that yet."

Draco watched him carefully, a miffed look on his features. "Your mood swings are irritating, Potter."

"You can call me Harry," he said again.

"My point exactly. I understood how to navigate the veiled civility and casual aggression, but I don't know what to do with -" Draco gestured generally towards Potter, "- this."

"How Slytherin of you."

"Precisely. That is why I understood how to deal with you when you were also acting like one."

"You liked it better when I was mean to you?" Potter asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I believe that is what I said," he drawled, rolling his eyes.

"You're impossible."

"No, Potter, you are -"

"I used you, Draco," Potter cut in, frowning at him. "And for that I am sorry."

"I'm not."

Potter blinked at him. "I…."

"Look, Potter, whatever existential crisis you survived was probably terrible, but I am not someone you need to feign sympathy for -"

"I couldn't summon a patronus," Potter suddenly blurted out, looking away from Draco. Draco frowned. "When I first managed to get Carrow's wand. I couldn't summon one." Harry was quiet for a second. "I used to be able to do it with only the knowledge that I could. I...didn't need to remember being happy.

"When I realized I hadn't been happy, I...knew I had made mistakes. I fucked up with Alec, mistreated you, abandoned Hermione and Ron, neglected Teddy…. I realized I had to change something. I knew that you were probably looking for me, Ron and Hermione were probably worried sick...but I felt I didn't deserve it."

"But you eventually could," Draco prompted.

"Yeah. I focused on the happy things that I used to think about when I had to try to cast my patronus. Dinner with Sirius, Christmas at the Weasley's, competing with you on the quidditch field. Hanging out with the other sixth-year Gryffindors in our dorm or common room. I used to feel like I _belonged_ to something. It might have been Dumbledore's Army, or the Order of the Phoenix, but I lost that after Ron left the auror department."

Draco watched Potter carefully as he spoke, his grey eyes shielded from emotion. Potter had never opened up to him like this - it was probably part of his attempted reform but something about it felt more genuine than that.

"I spiraled...lost sight of what I was doing. I was angry _all the time_." He smiled sadly. "Don't get used to me saying it, but you may have been right. It wasn't hard to find danger as an auror, and I had been looking for it.

"I felt at home in the department after the war; I was in my element. I could dedicate myself to another cause: ridding the ministry of 'corruption.' Such a vague goal...it kept me busy for a while. I progressed through the ranks quickly, but was never satisfied. I met Alec and that helped for a while, but it still felt claustrophobic if I thought about it too much."

They were quiet for a few minutes.

"I hated you so much, Draco," Potter said suddenly, shaking his head. "Over the years."

"You don't anymore." It wasn't really a question.

"Not really. Well, sometimes. You have changed a lot."

"Please, Potter, tell me about me," Draco said sourly. This ought to be good.

"You are different," Potter said again. "But you still find distance to be the easiest. You don't want to hear things like you actually want to be loved -"

"Oh, come off it Potter -"

"No, I am serious Draco, I -"

"You what?" snapped Draco.

"- like you," Harry finished, looking away from Draco as he blushed.

"What."

"I know, right? Trust me, it is stranger for me."

"No, Potter, you don't," Draco said definitely, feeling a swell of anger.

"I am not in love with you or anything. I just like...being around you."

Draco glared lightly at him. This was a little too much. He felt himself grow angry at Potter for putting him in this position. He was not ready to discussing his conflicted feelings regarding his once-nemesis. It was easier to ignore it when Potter wasn't talking so much. "What about the no-maj?"

Potter rolled his eyes, taking another bite of toast. "I confess my insecurities to you and you still manage to be a git about it."

Draco snorted in response, glaring at him. He noted Potter didn't answer his question.

"Do you still hate me?" Potter asked quietly, looking back at Draco.

"Yes."

The smile that spread across Potter's lips was sad and resigned. "That's good. Probably easier that way."

"Go back to your no-maj, Potter," Draco said bitterly as he stood from the table. "I am going to work. Don't do anything stupid."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Draco stayed at work until late that day. He told himself it wasn't because he was avoiding Potter and it was only because he had a vault-load of work to do. He had checked with Wiggs briefly to ensure the Healer had met with Potter, but otherwise did not make contact.

Around nine that evening, Draco finally exited out the lift of the Congress. Standing on the Manhattan streets, he looked around, still in a sour mood. His eyes landed on a pub that lay down the street, just on the edge of view. Pulling his robe tighter around him, he made his way towards The Greasy Knut.

Draco sat at the bar and ordered a fire whiskey, brooding. He couldn't stop thinking about what Potter had told him that morning. He was angry at him for breaking their tacit agreement to not talk about _feelings_ with each other and just stick to the professional or purely physical. Not that anything physical had happened recently, but it still remained fresh in Draco's mind, especially when alone in his bedroom.

He grunted when the man sitting next to him apologized for hitting him with his newspaper upon sitting. Draco looked back down at his glass and rotated it in his fingers. The sooner Potter got off this sentimental kick and got his mind back on the case the better.

As he sat there, his mind wandered to Harry's patronus and the alien emotions it had stirred in Draco. Now, they felt silly, elementary; nothing that Draco actually identified with. He found himself wondering for the hundredth time if they originated from himself or if they were planted by the presence of the patronus. Engendering feelings for the caster was not a quality of the spell as far as Draco knew, but his pride required it to be so.

As he set down his empty glass he frowned. "Sorry?" Draco said to the man next to him, realizing he was talking to him.

"That's you, right?" the man asked again, holding the newspaper up for Draco to see the front page. It bore a series of pictures of Draco. The images showed him escorting the Boy Wonder to the hospital, at the cave crime scene, or during the press briefing after the rescue. The article outlined the events and provided updates on the case.

"Oh. Yes," Draco responded, bristling at his thoughts being interrupted. He looked at the man, trained to always memorize the features of anyone he spoke to. He was average in looks with glasses and short, manicured facial hair.

"Shit, _you_ saved that guy?"

"Yes," Draco confirmed again, not impressed with the man's comprehension. He accepted another drink from the bartender and downed it.

"Fuck, what I wouldn't give to be the one to save Harry Potter."

Draco raised an eyebrow at the man. "That is an odd thing to say."

"Oh, er, yeah, I suppose." The man looked back at his newspaper. He paused for a few seconds before he turned towards Draco again. "Why did you want to be an auror?" he asked casually after folding up the newspaper.

"To make the parents proud," Draco lied easily, studying him. He didn't get any hints of animosity from the man. Rather from the way he turned towards Draco, a hand resting on one of his parted knees, Draco had a feeling he meant quite the opposite of harm.

"You are from Britain, too."

"You could be an auror yourself," Draco drawled, raising an eyebrow.

"What brought you to the states?"

"Change of scenery. What brought you to this bar?"

"To meet people," the man said casually, taking a drink of his beer. He relaxed against his elbow on the counter. His legs spread open just a fraction more. "My name is Will."

"Pleasure, Will. I'm Draco." They shook hands.

After about another hour of small talk, Draco slammed the door to the bathroom open, pushed inside by Will. Kissing furiously, Will shoved Draco up against a stall door, his hands slipping up Draco's shirt. Draco grasped the handle blindly so they could gain entrance, pulling Will in after him.

Will wasted no time undoing Draco's belt, biting his lip greedily as he did so. Draco smirked as the man knelt in front of him, unbuttoning the front of his pants. He touched the disappointingly-gelled brown hair as his eyes rolled back, letting out a soft moan. This wasn't exactly how he planned on finishing his night, but it proved to be a welcome distraction.

Several minutes later, Draco let out a gasp, clutching onto the top edge of the stall wall above his head. Breathing heavily, Draco smirked at Will as he stood, Draco's vision still a little hazy. The orgasm wasn't anything like the one Potter had given him, but there was something exciting about having having a perfect stranger give him a blowjob. It still held a bit of the danger he enjoyed, especially done in a public space.

"Thanks, Cap," Will breathed with a grin, wiping his mouth.


	10. Expecto Patronum

**Chapter 10** : _Expecto Patronum_

Harry was sitting in the living room reading over some files when Draco entered through the front door. It was a Sunday afternoon and Draco had just returned from a brief meeting with a witness who reported a sighting of Sayre.

Draco acknowledged Harry with a glance and a nod before he went into the kitchen. Standing, Harry went to follow him. "How did it go?" he asked, watching as Draco went about making some tea.

"False lead again."

Harry was quiet for a second. "You have been avoiding me ever since that morning we talked," Harry said.

"I see your powers of observation remain intact."

"Well, is it working?"

"Swimmingly."

"You can't avoid me forever."

"I can try."

"We will have to work together eventually."

"Until then," Draco said with a nod of goodbye, heading out of the kitchen with his tea.

"Draco," Harry said, turning to follow him. "You are being ridiculous. Can we at least talk about the case?"

"No. You know perfectly well your healer said that you are to remain off the investigation so as to not cause yourself 'undue strain.'"

"I don't understand. Why are you acting like this?"

"Just the way I am, Potter. You know that," Draco snapped.

"Draco -"

"Stop calling me that," Draco hissed, rounding on Harry. "We are not friends, we are work partners, nothing more. That's it. It was a mistake to pursue anything further. Now leave me alone."

Harry frowned at him. "Fine. Just tell me one thing, _Malfoy,_ " Harry said, pulling his wand from his pocket, causing Draco's eyebrows to raise. Harry turned, moving his wand in a circular motion with a determined flick at the end. " _Expecto patronum_ ," he said in a calm voice.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

That was not fair.

Draco had opened his mouth to say something before he heard Potter utter the incantation. From the tip of Potter's wand a silver stream of magic poured forth, pooling into a large silver stag. Draco felt that addicting wave of warmth and understanding wash over him as the stag took a quick trot around the room before returning to Potter's side. Both Potter and the patronus looked at Draco. "Why do you actually want to learn to summon a patronus?"

Draco glared back furiously at Harry. _Potter,_ he corrected himself mentally, trying not to look at the patronus. He hated how it made his knees weak. It made him want to touch the stag again to feel that softness, to hold Harry.

Potter. Fuck.

"What are you trying to do, Potter?" he finally managed to say, tying his best to maintain a cutting tone despite the calm feeling that was growing in his chest.

"I don't understand you, Draco," he responded. "I am just trying to help you."

"No, you aren't. You are trying to make _yourself_ feel better by turning me into one of your charity cases. I don't need you to save me from myself; I am fine."

Harry looked at him sadly. The stag took a few steps forward towards Draco who took a few steps back in response. "I don't think you are a bad person, Draco."

Draco tore his eyes from the stag to look at Harry. He found calmness in the green eyes that met his, trust and affection also. "Why are you doing this?" Draco asked again.

"I can teach you."

"Why would you want to?" Draco was disappointed that his voice was weaker than he wanted it to be.

"You have changed."

"I…." Draco hesitated, looking at the stag again who blinked back at him slowly. He tried to remember why he was upset. He had felt defensive, angry, thrown off by this sudden change in Harry. Their aggressive relationship before made sense to him, he could navigate that.

But this?

When he had first encountered this patronus in the woods it had completely derailed him. He had never been this close to one and couldn't help but wonder why it affected him so. Just as he did before, he found he wanted to be more honest with himself. If he could accept it, he knew that some part of him was more interested in Harry than he cared to admit. That thought was disturbing, but there it was. Before the patronus, he thought it was just a sexual need, but the nagging feeling he felt around Harry was likely more than that. "Does it normally...feel like this around a patronus?" he asked, mostly to distract himself from his thoughts.

"Yes and no. It's a little different in a combat situation. My intent is not to defend at the moment, but rather to calm, so it does that." Gazing at the stag, Harry reached out and placed his hand on its flank fondly. "I don't know if it feels different to me than it does to you."

"It feels...safe. Calm."

Harry nodded. "I believe each patronus projects qualities natural to the animal itself. Or certain qualities of the caster, maybe."

Before Draco could stop himself, he raised his hand and touched the patronus gently on the forehead. Perhaps because of his proximity to both Harry and the patronus he felt an even stronger projection of calm and patience than he had in the woods. Draco looked back at Harry and realized he had moved closer to Draco, now standing inches from him.

"Harry," Draco warned fruitlessly as Harry leaned in and kissed him lightly, making no contact with him save his lips. Draco pressed his eyes shut, willing the melting feeling to stop. He felt content and oddly whole again, the yearning sensation he hadn't even been conscious of dissolving in his belly. It became clear to Draco as he kissed Harry back that this was not a manipulation attempt; it was an olive branch. He was dealing with Harry Potter, after all, not a Slytherin.

The majestic animal nudged Draco's shoulder, causing him to break the kiss. He opened his eyes in time to see the stag flicker briefly. Draco looked back at Harry and realized he had grown pale and had a sheen of sweat on his forehead. "Harry, end the spell, you're going to pass out again," he scolded gently. Before he could stop himself, he placed a steadying hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry closed his eyes with a wistful smile and leaned against the table with his hip, the patronus dissolving into a silver mist. He let out a breath of air before he looked back up at Draco as Draco started speaking. "Do not cast that until you are well again," Draco said, removing his hand quickly from Harry's shoulder. He sighed, leaning his weight on one leg to scowl down at Harry. Though the stag was gone, the calm determination remained. "Okay, Harry, here's the deal. As it is Sunday, you may instruct me in the casting of the patronus charm. You will not, however, show off your ability again until you are deemed field-worthy."

Harry chuckled at the 'showing off' dig. "Sounds fair."

"I still do not understand your intent with this," Draco continued, gesturing between them, "but until you are back in your right mind, you need to focus on your recovery. I refuse to tolerate this any longer than the prescribed month."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Draco led Hedge down the steps from the third residence they had checked that afternoon. Over the last several days they had been interviewing families in the areas surrounding the victims that might have a connection to the Sayre family. It was slow-going and so far resulted in no leads.

"I don't know, sir, I feel like we are missing something," Hedge said, putting his hands in his robe pockets. It was a cold day near the end of January, though it was thankfully not snowing.

"Oh?" Draco asked, only semi-interested. This was a combat wizard next to him, no detective. But as Potter had chided him once, he should listen to all his aurors, so he reluctantly did so.

"Why would Sayre just murder random neighbors? Don't you think he would pick people he knew or something?"

Draco stopped in his tracks. They had to have some connection, but it was true that neighbors didn't really make sense. It was too random and impersonal. They weren't just neighbors, but maybe family. The Dark Lord hated his immediate family and they were some of his first victims. "Brilliant, Hedge," Draco said distractedly, patting him on the shoulder. "Back to the Congress," he said, gripping Hedge's arm to apparate them back.

Several hours later, Draco marched back into the investigation room, passing Atticus' desk. "Talk to me, Atticus."

Atticus nodded at the auror she had been talking to, then turned to jog after Draco who didn't slow down. "I went back further in the no-maj police files than we did initially. There was a murder in July of '98 in Plymouth, Massachusetts with a very similar MO. The two parents were murdered, but the son miraculously survived by hiding."

"A son named Christopher, by chance?"

Atticus grinned at him. "Last name Mastin."

"Murder weapon was a knife?"

"Lucky guess. The last known residence was in Plymouth, Massachusetts, though we already checked and it is vacant. We are waiting for documentation to arrive from Headmaster Fontaine regarding his time at Ilvermorny. We are hoping that will provide more clues to his activities."

They reached his office so Draco leaned against his desk, regarding the brunette witch carefully. Cara Atticus had quickly become his favorite Lieutenant once he was promoted to Captain. She was enthusiastic, steadfast, and did not take any flack. "When is the next press briefing scheduled for?"

"9 am tomorrow. They want Potter with you."

"Out of the question. He is recovering."

"Sir. Has he talked about it anymore?"

"No, not since the interview. ...Wait, you said Mastin lived in Plymouth?"

"Yep, not far from one of the murder scenes."

"Any chance he lived in the other locations?"

"Ah, I am glad you asked," Atticus said with a grin. She flipped open the file she carried and started looking through it. "Let's see, from what historians have been able to determine, Isolt Sayre potentially came across on the Mayflower herself. However, she was dressed as a boy and called herself _Story_ , Elias Story."

"One of the murdered families -"

"Last name Story, yes. In Plymouth, Massachusetts."

"Related?"

"Not by blood, no."

"What else?

"Isolt's husband was named James - drum roll - Stewart," she finished dramatically.

"The victims from Newport News, Virginia."

"Yeah, apparently he had a problem with his family."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Who doesn't."

"Although, from what we can tell they weren't actually related."

"Strange oversight."

"Yeah. Oh, it is also worth noting that apparently two of Isolt Sayre's children were adopted. Their descendants are also not safe. Last name Boot."

"Victims from Jersey City. So Christopher is how old when his parents are murdered?"

"He was born January of '84, so he is currently 24. So, 14 when his parents were killed?"

"Interesting." He accepted the files she handed him. "Do me a favor and keep digging into why that murder was considered a no-maj murder, and find out if there were any others between '98 and '07. Those are potentially nine more years of murders we might not know about."

"Sir."

"Also," Draco hesitated as he started to turn. "He used 'Sayre,'" he mused quietly.

"He doesn't like his name," Atticus suggested.

"Since he disappeared as Mastin, and we have no record of Sayre, maybe he used a different name between then and now," Draco suggested. "He went unaccounted for between his graduation and the first murder."

"Maybe he left the country."

"Maybe. Collect a list of historic family names. Start with pure-blood families. See if any of them had a Christopher."

"You got it, Captain."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Pot -" Draco started to call out when entering their safehouse but stopped when he saw Potter asleep on the couch. This was very unusual for Potter, as he normally would loathe sleeping out in the open.

He stowed his robe in the broom closet and walked over quietly to the couch. Potter was curled so his back was to the room, arms tight to his chest, and was frowning slightly. "Potter," Malfoy said softly, hesitantly touching his shoulder.

As expected, Potter leapt to life, whirling around to face Draco with his wand raised in his previously-hidden right hand. Draco raised his hands defensively and took a step back, face passive. "This is happening a lot lately."

"What? Oh. Sorry." Potter lowered his wand looking a bit sheepish. "You just get home?" He turned around to sit normally on the couch, pushing a hand through his hair before rubbing the back of his neck. He rested both his elbows on his knees.

"Yes. I have good news. I know I am not supposed to discuss the case with you, but developments like this you should probably know." Draco recounted what Atticus had discovered earlier that day.

"Brilliant," Potter said enthusiastically. "When in '98 did you say the parents were murdered?"

"July, I believe."

"Two months after Voldemort's defeat."

"Coincidence?"

"Maybe. He would have been recently home from school at the time, for the summer holiday. Do you suspect he killed his parents?" Potter stood to go to the kitchen.

"It seems likely," Draco said, following Potter.

"Did he live with a foster family after or go to an orphanage?"

"Orphanage. The family was estranged from relatives."

"What was the parent's blood status?"

"Squib and no-maj."

"Damn."

Draco leaned against the kitchen table, arms and ankles crossed. "So he is, what, inspired by the death of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and decides to take up the mantle himself? Angry at his magicless parents?"

Potter shrugged as he pulled a glass down from the cabinet. His eyes had that far-away look that Draco had come to expect whenever Potter was deep in thought about a case. "It might have taken him some time to plan it once returning."

"Atticus is looking into if there are more murders that went unconnected as that first murder was without magic." Draco watched Potter pick up a bottle of fire whiskey from the cabinet as well. "Potter. I hope I needn't remind you that you should not be drinking that."

"I thought you weren't my healer," Potter said grumpily, pouring himself a small drink anyway. "I feel fine, anyway."

"You said that your third day back," Draco pointed out, walking forward briskly to take the glass from Potter's hand before he could take a drink from it. "I didn't believe you then, and I don't believe you now." Draco knocked back the drink, maintaining eye contact challengingly with the pouting Potter as he did so. He picked up the bottle, poured himself another drink, corked it, and tucked the bottle under his arm. He leaned against the counter next to Potter, swirling the liquid in the glass as he smirked at him.

"Git," Potter said with an eye roll.

Draco raised a mock-offended eyebrow at him, taking another sip.

"You are determined to make me miserable."

"As much as possible," Draco said wistfully. He realized a little too late how close he was to Potter when the other wizard reached out to take the glass back, brushing against him. Quite accustomed to being tall, Draco simply held the glass up above his head out of Potter's reach, earning him a well-deserved scowl.

"I can have a drink if I want, you wanker, give me my glass back." Potter moved in front of Draco, initially rising up on his toes to try to reach the glass. After fruitlessly stretching for a few seconds, he decided to cut the chase and went for the bottle.

Draco leaned back against the counter as much as he could, twisting to try to keep both items from Potter, maintaining his smirk. "With the state you're in, your already abysmal alcohol tolerance will be none-existent. I am doing you a favor, Potter," he added the last part as Potter got the bottle from him. He honestly didn't care that much, so he hadn't resisted that seriously.

Grinning, Potter uncorked the bottle. As he took a drink, the hand holding the cork casually came to a rest on Draco's chest. Draco's smirk faltered, now supremely aware of their proximity. Potter probably noticed at the same time, as his face reddened slightly upon registering Draco's conflicted expression. Without moving his hand from Draco's chest, he set the bottle down on the counter slowly, swallowing his mouthful of whiskey.

Draco stared intently back at Potter, searching his eyes for...something. He wasn't quite sure what he was looking for, but he had a feeling Potter didn't know what he was looking for either as he gazed back. Both were frozen, waiting for the other to move. Draco knew what was about to happen and was fighting with himself over whether or not he was going to let it. The longer he hesitated, the more likely he knew it was to happen.

Potter slowly raised his hand from the bottle on the counter and cupped the back of Draco's neck. He leaned against him slightly as he lifted himself up on his toes, gently kissing Draco. Draco tried to convince himself not to kiss back, but quickly lost that battle. He slowly lowered the hand that held the glass lofted up above them, setting the glass down on the counter without looking.

Originally, being around Potter was dangerous and exciting, but when Potter returned from captivity, he was wholly different. He seemed to want something from him that Draco wasn't yet willing to provide. Being a rebound was hardly a problem, but Potter had been hinting that he wanted more than just casual sex. Perhaps the most uncomfortable part of that prospect was that Draco wasn't sure he would turn it down.

Draco knew he had invited the attention by his actions on that first night, but he knew now it wasn't a good idea. The two of them would never work. Theirs was a volatile relationship, defined by anger and trauma. Their history showed an arguably unhealthy obsession, and Draco was sure that they could never be completely honest with each other.

As they kissed, Draco forgot the arguments he held in his brain about why he should distance himself from Potter. Feeling a heat move through his body, Draco gave himself over the easy warmth of the kiss, wrapping his arms loosely around Potter's waist. The hand on his chest eventually moved upwards, joining the other arm wrapped around his neck.

A pulse moved down Draco's spine when Potter's tongue delicately licked his lip. Draco obliged, allowing the kiss to deepen as the heat built to into a pressure below Draco's belt. He wrapped his arms tighter around Potter's ribs, dimly surprised at how much smaller Potter felt compared to when he was healthy before. Potter leaned more heavily against Draco, a small moan escaping his throat.

Suddenly the fireplace in the living room roared to life. "Harry?" a voice called. Potter leapt back from Draco in surprise. It was a fire-call from Weasley. Potter glanced once at Draco before he left for the living room, an apologetic look on his face.

Draco cleared his throat as he tugged the panels of his jacket to smooth out his appearance. He let out a breath, tapping his fingers a few times on the counter willing his body's decidedly stiff reaction to the kiss to dissipate. Turning, he poured more liquid into his glass and drained it again.

"Harry," he could hear Weasley saying, "Alec wanted to talk to you. Are you free now?"

"Yeah," Potter said, running another hand through his hair. It was a good thing it was just a fire-call or else Potter's flush would have been extremely obvious. Draco took his leave of the room, heading back to his bedroom. It was time to begin his nightly potion routine, anyway.


	11. Tables Turned

**Chapter 11:** Tables Turned

"How are you feeling, sir?" Hedge asked quietly as they dismounted their brooms 30 meters from the warehouse.

"I am going to hex the next person who asks me that," Harry growled back, stashing the Congress broom in the bushes with the others.

"Yes, sir," Hedge responded with a small grin. "Just...you know, like twelve broken bones, internal bleeding…." He quailed under the Harry's glare.

"Just try and keep up," Harry said with an eye roll before he moved swiftly out from under the cover of trees. He was crouched low to the ground, wand held out in front of him.

They entered the building through the southwest doors, deemed to be the easiest point of entry for the warehouse that wasn't the front door. Harry and Draco led, followed by Hedge and Wiggs. In silent concert, they cleared the office areas, searching room after room. Once they reached the network of larger storage rooms, still housing old machines and broken down crates, Draco signalled Hedge and Wiggs to the right and tapped Harry's arm to follow him to the left. They split up, continuing to clear rooms with silent synchronicity.

The warehouse appeared to be an old muggle machine shop of some sort, long since abandoned. They had received a tip that Mastin had been sighted here, moving a shipment of some sort. If it was true, Harry hoped they could get proof that he led the smuggling ring in London. Keeping in tight formation with Draco, he followed him down a set of stairs, keeping an eye on their back so no one could sneak up on them. They stopped at the door at the base of the stairs, flanking either side of it. Draco looked at Harry who nodded back to him, wand at the ready. Casting a silent _alohomora,_ Draco pushed the door open and rushed in, Harry on his heels.

The door opened into a long empty tunnel. They both frowned and looked at each other. The plans they had said this door should have opened into a storage room, not a passageway. There were more warehouses on the property, so it was conceivable that it connected them, though it seemed unlikely that their blueprints were that outdated. This must have been a magic-made addition to the warehouse after the muggle blueprints were completed.

Silently, Harry nodded his head down the tunnel and Draco frowned. He shook his head in response, gesturing back towards the direction they came. Harry knew Draco was trying to communicate that they shouldn't split too far from Hedge and Wiggs. Harry gave Draco an impatient look, but nodded, conceding the silent argument.

As they headed back the way they came, they continued clearing the portion of the warehouse that they had predetermined would be theirs. There was a hallway that dividing the building that functioned as the rendezvous point for both teams, so Draco and Harry positioned themselves there to wait. As the minutes ticked by, Harry looked at Draco again and frowned at him. It was extremely unlikely that Wiggs and Hedge would get lost.

Harry motioned to Draco in the direction that the other two should have come from, raising his wand significantly. It was Draco's turn to nod, following behind Harry as he gently pushed open a side door to begin clearing the next series of spaces. They checked each room, behind boxes and around machines, with no trace of the other aurors.

It took several more minutes for Harry and Draco to clear the entire ground floor of the warehouse. Draco tapped Harry's arm to stop him while he pulled a silver dollar from his pocket. Harry kept watch as Draco called in reinforcements, using Granger's communicator. At this point, they had to assume that something had gone wrong and that the other two were in trouble.

Having cleared the entire warehouse with no sign of Wiggs and Hedge, Harry and Draco found themselves back at the top of the stairwell that ran down to the unknown corridor. They glanced at each other before Draco took point, leading them back to the door at the bottom of the stairs. Harry grabbed his arm half way down the stairs. "We left the door open," he whispered as quietly as possible in Draco's ear. Draco looked back at the door before nodding to Harry once.

They crept slowly the rest of the way towards the closed metal door. As before, they both flanked it. Draco waved his wand a few times over the door, silently casting _aparecium insidiae,_ _dolus revelio_ , and any other trap detection spell he could think of. Nothing revealed, Draco wordlessly used _aberto_ to push open the door without touching it. Rather anticlimactically, there was just an empty hallway on the other side.

Harry followed closely behind Draco as they moved silently down the hallway. It was appropriately dark and dank in the passage, large pipes running along the ceiling. There were no doors, though portions of the walls were boarded up as if under construction. As they neared the end of the hallway, the door in front of them opened suddenly. Draco jumped to the side, immediately extending a hand behind him to shove Harry back against the wall. His arm remained pressed to Harry's chest as a small bundle was tossed into the hallway followed by the door closing with a resounding snap.

They stood there for several seconds, waiting to see if the bundle would do anything. Growing impatient, Harry pushed away Draco's arm, ignoring his hiss and started to move towards the end of the hall slowly. It was so dark it was difficult to tell where the tossed bundle landed. " _Lumos minima_ ," Harry whispered, a tiny light appearing at the end of his wand. He flicked it, and like a tiny ball, it was cast out in front of him, rolling along the ground.

When the light neared it, the object unfolded, revealing itself to be a green and black, winged, serpentine creature. It had dull black scales covering most of its body with two clawed feet and translucent, green, leathery wings. With surprising speed it launched itself at Harry, raising its talons. "Get down!" Draco yelled, rushing forward and shoving Harry hard in the side. Harry staggered, crashing against the pipes that lined the wall.

The creature, about the size of an eagle, hissed and swooped at Draco's head instead. As it passed over him, blood erupted from long gashes across Draco's scalp, immediately turning his white-gold hair crimson. The creature latched itself onto Draco's back as he staggered, it's round mouth latching to the side of Draco's head. Draco let out a yell of pain, tearing at the creature fruitlessly with his hands.

Having recovered and turned around, Harry moved quickly towards Draco. " _Stop!_ " Harry commanded the creature, barely noticing he had slipped into _parseltongue_. Draco let out another gasp of pain as the mouth detached itself from his scalp and looked dazedly at Harry. " _Get off him_!" he commanded.

The creature didn't move at first, eyeing Harry with beady black eyes. It opened its mouth a few times as if objecting before it unfolded from Draco and fluttered to perch on a pipe. It watched Harry with interest.

"Draco," Harry said, moving forward quickly to catch Draco as he collapsed. "You git, why did you do that?"

"What? Who are…?" Draco asked blearily as he looked up at Harry. His grey eyes swam with pain and confusion before they fluttered closed.

" _Iter comotium_ ," Harry whispered, pointing his wand at Draco. Now feather-light, he lifted Draco easily and positioned against the wall of the door so if one looked through they wouldn't see him immediately. " _Vulnera sanentur_ ," his whispered, waving his wand over Draco. Healing spells were not his strong suit, so he wasn't comfortable trying to heal Draco completely. The profuse bleeding appeared to stop, so he turned back to the creature.

" _I have to go find two friends. Can you protect him for me?"_ he asked as gently as he could.

A snake-like tongue flicked out as if tasting Harry's intention. Blinking once, the beast leapt from the wall and landed on Harry's shoulder. It was surprisingly light. It bumped it's scaley head against Harry's neck once before it leapt back off again and landed carefully on Draco's chest, draping its wings over him protectively. Watching it, Harry realized it looked much more like a moth or butterfly than a bat as he had originally thought with colorfully translucent wings. He knew he would have no problem remembering to ask Hermione what it was later.

Harry thanked the beast before he tested the door for traps. Pushing it open, he revealed another staircase going up, presumably to the next warehouse. Wand in hand, he ascended quietly. At the top, he began clearing rooms quickly, noting the layout appeared to mirror the other warehouse. Only two rooms in, Harry saw the swish of a black robe through a doorway. "Stop!" he yelled, dashing after the figure. Any time he felt he had a shot, he flicked a body-bind curse, darting in and out of piles of rubbish and doorways but with no luck.

They ran across the main hallway that led into the largest storage area. Harry lost sight of the suspect, and slowed his pace, looking up and down aisles of dilapidated crates. He heard the familiar crack of a curse being released and turned in time to see it fly at him, blocking it at the last second. He took off running in the direction of the source of the curse.

"Harry!" came a hoarse croak from a pile Harry almost tripped over.

He looked down. Partially covered by a tarp were Hedge and Wiggs. "Sam," Harry said, dropping down next to the auror. His face was streaked with blood. Hedge, next to him, looked unconscious.

"No, we're fine. They ran that way," Wiggs said, nodding his head towards an open doorway. Harry nodded, leaping up and sprinting in the indicated direction. Harry knew that the warehouse was likely warded with an anti-apparition jinx in order to prevent their escape. The figure was probably trying to run to the edge of the property.

As Harry flew through the back door, he skidded to a halt, throwing himself backwards just in time to dodge the hexes thrown at him. He scrambled back inside the warehouse, returning fire in the cover of the doorway. He couldn't tell how many figures were fleeing towards the edge of the woods, but he saw at least two. A series of pops precluded the silence that fell over the yard outside the warehouse. Panting, Harry turned to run back to find his companions.

After helping Wiggs lift Hedge to the edge of the grounds, Harry nearly tripped running down the stairs to get back to Draco. He saw a pair of legs sticking out of the dark doorway and frowned. On approach, he realized that it was a suspect's legs, his top half shrouded in the wings of the scaley beast as it feasted upon his head.

Harry grimaced and looked at Draco. He was still unconscious, undisturbed. The beast probably surprised the attacker. As the beast stopped feeding to look up at Harry expectantly, he realized he recognized Draco's would-be attacker. It was Tenley. Harry's traitorous auror who betrayed him by saving Alecto. Unfortunately, it appeared unlikely he would survive for questioning from the vacant look on his face. Harry sighed and knelt down to levitate Draco to safety.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"You shouldn't be here," a quiet voice said from the hospital bed.

Harry looked up at Draco and frowned at him. He lifted his wand and tapped the case in his lap. In a whirl of papers, the files and pictures sorted themselves back into his case before he closed it. "Don't worry. Half of the Auror department is in the hallway." He stood and took the few steps to the bedside.

"What happened?" Draco asked tiredly. He had white bandages wrapped around his head.

"What do you remember?"

"I remember that you're a prat," he snipped evasively, leaning forward to try to sit up.

"Careful," Harry said, reaching out to help Draco sit up, piling pillows for him behind his back. "That doesn't really give me a time-frame for your memory, by the way," he prompted sourly, watching the blonde.

Draco sighed, raising a delicate hand to his head, gently touching the bandages. He winced. "I remember being at the Congress. We were going to go check out a warehouse sighting."

"That's not too bad. The healer was worried there would be more memory damage."

"From what?"

"You jumped in front of the swooping evil, you git," Harry said as he sat on the bed.

"Why would I do that?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"To save me."

Draco's lip curled. Harry grinned. "Anyway, a swooping evil latched onto your head. They eat human brains, apparently. It only managed to pump a little of its memory-wiping venom into you before I called it off."

"Called it off?"

"Yeah, apparently they are snake-like enough to respond to my _parseltongue_."

"Why didn't Mastin expect that?"

"An excellent question. Probably wasn't there or didn't expect me to realize it." Harry said, turning to look at the door as it opened.

"Sir," Wiggs greeted Harry as he entered. "Captain. How are you?" He came to stand on the opposite side of the bed from Harry.

"Brilliant," Draco responded dryly, eyeing Wiggs' own bandages. "You?"

"Fine. Frank is still out cold. The healer is worried about his memory." He looked back at Harry. "The suspect died."

Harry nodded, disappointed. "I figured as much."

"You caught someone?" Draco looked back at Harry.

"Not exactly. I asked the swooping evil to protect you and it did that a little too well, apparently."

"Do we know who it is?" Draco asked.

"Yes. He was one of my aurors," Harry responded.

Draco's eyebrows shot up, but before he could respond there was a brief knock on the door. The healer opened it and entered. "Mr. Malfoy, how are you feeling?" She shooed Harry away so that she could stand next to Draco in his place.

"Never better."

She tutted at him. "That may work on your companions, Mr. Malfoy, but you needn't try to impress me," she said as she waved her wand over the bandages. Whatever reading she received seemed to confirm her diagnosis. "I will get you a potion for the pain and the headache. After that, you are free to go. Leave the bandages on until you go to bed tonight." Draco nodded, thanking her.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The following Sunday, Harry got up early for meditation followed by his usual morning run with Wiggs. It was a relatively warm February morning despite the snow on the ground. The rest of the week after the warehouse incident was relatively uneventful. Hedge remained in the hospital unfortunately, but they were due to visit him later that day.

Harry was frustrated with the lack of progress tracking Christopher Mastin. They had received the student files from Ilvermorny, but they provided little insight. The files presented Mastin as an exemplary student, involved in many extra-curricular activities. He performed well on the American equivalent of OWLs and NEWTs, but after he graduated he disappeared. There wasn't even much evidence regarding Mastin's experimentation with Dark magic. Like many students, he had the occasional Dark warnings in his file, always explained away as dares or a lack of understanding of what he was casting. He stayed at the school over the holidays, just as Harry and Riddle had, and only spent the summers at the orphanage in Plymouth.

When they visited the location of the orphanage, they discovered that the building suffered a fire five years prior. Utterly destroyed, the wards and staff were scattered to other locations in the surrounding area. The matron of the establishment had died of natural causes only three months later. Another dead end.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Several days later, Harry followed behind Draco as they strode through the halls of the Congress. He was used to the side looks and whispers in the building considering he had dealt with that his entire life, though he did miss how accustomed his ministry had become to his presence. Harry Potter walking by you in the Ministry of Magic was no longer news in London. Granted, he had been largely cooped up in a safehouse since his arrival in the states, but as the manhunt grew their presence at the investigation headquarters was unavoidable. It was still much better than walking the streets of London where he could not travel without being asked to sign at least three autographs.

It was Hedge's second day back in the field after he recovered from his memory loss. He was unable to recover about a week's worth of memory prior to the warehouse incident, but otherwise came out unscathed. He seemed extra enthusiastic about his duties protecting Harry now, probably because he felt the need to make up for getting caught unawares with Wiggs.

Hedge slipped in front of Harry smoothly before he could enter the conference room. This was a practiced movement by now, and although Harry found it unnecessary, he hardly noticed anymore. Harry's eyes swept the room automatically, identifying exits and windows. He subconsciously checking for threats as he always did whenever entering a new room.

"Good morning, gentlemen," Atticus greeted, standing from the large table.

Wiggs and a few other aurors on Draco's team filed into the meeting room after them. It took a few minutes for all those present to sort themselves into chairs. Harry sat so he could see both doors that led into the room, Draco on one side, Hedge on the other.

"Great, I think we are just missing Wess, but someone can catch her up when she gets here," Atticus said, tapping a stack of papers with her wand to begin distributing them. "All yours, Captain," she said, taking her seat next to Draco, opposite of Harry.

Draco stood, surveying the Lieutenants the room. "We have made significant progress in this case, largely thanks to the efforts of your units," he said casually. Harry was continuously impressed that the adult version of Draco could give credit to others - he shouldn't be surprised at this point, but there it was.

As Draco briefed the team on the status of their investigation, Harry watched the faces of those attending. Draco had managed to make a life for himself here. He had the honest admiration from at least some of those present, and respect from the remaining. If Harry had any reservations about Draco's intentions or character, he felt them appropriately resolved.

Harry returned his attention to Draco. He was explaining the connection of the Sayre's to the killer, assigning different duties to each Lieutenant to bring back to his or her unit. Harry found himself distracted again, watching Draco's graceful wrist movements as he indicated to different locations on a map of New England. Harry knew Draco would tribute his elegance to his proper pure-blood upbringing; Harry privately suspected good breeding wouldn't have informed the way Draco gently flicked loose strands of his bangs from his eyes, or subconsciously tugged his coat to straighten his appearance. He really was quite beautiful.

Suddenly the sound of chairs scraping filled the room and Harry stood with the rest of them. He felt the familiar guilt from his school days when he spent an entire class daydreaming instead of listening to the professor. This was rather unlike him in a professional setting, especially as Head Auror, so he chidded himself for getting distracted. It was dangerous, not to mention stupid, especially since he was distracted by Draco Malfoy.

"Was the briefing not interesting enough for you, Potter?" Draco asked casually as they filed back out, heading towards the investigation room.

"Interesting?" He responded casually. "Sure."

"You looked like you were miles away."

"Er, I'm fine. Who are we interviewing today?" he asked, changing the subject.

Draco came to a stop in his office, leaning a hip against his desk as he looked at Harry. "Some old school buddies of Mastin's. Then we'll fly over to Plymouth to meet with the local auror chief."

As the day went on, Harry found it easier to focus. He was eventually able to convince himself that his distracted behavior that morning was due to lack of sleep and nothing more. As they touched down in Plymouth, Massachusetts, he had forgotten about it entirely, back in the familiar auror mindset. By now he was rather comfortable being Draco's partner, and easily slipped back into that territory.

They walked up the stairs to the local auror department and were guided to the Chief Auror's office with no fanfare. The last time they had been here was to visit the location where the Story family was murdered, the seventh in the series of the 31st Murders. As it happened, Plymouth was also where Isolt Sayre was purported to have made ground in the Mayflower, not to mention it was the city where Christopher Mastin grew up and where his parents died. It was a significant city, to say the least.

When they entered the office, the chief stood and walked around the desk to shake hands with Draco, Harry, and Hedge (Wiggs was meeting with the President). "I have news for you, gentleman!" the older witch said enthusiastically as she leaned comfortably against her desk. "I appreciate you flying down from New York."

"Of course, Chief," Draco said in his cold professional tone, chin lifted. "What have you discovered?"

"We were searching through old newspaper clippings of when Mastin's family was murdered, and we found this." She produced a copy of an old newspaper article, the photos barely moving anymore, and passed it to Draco.

The corner of Draco's mouth hitched up slightly. "Very good, Chief," he said, passing the clipping to Harry. It was a small clipping from the Plymouth Historian, definitely not a front page piece. Harry read over the text and quickly discovered the significant quote:

" _I can't believe this happened," Mastin's cousin, Bartholomew Patterson of Jamestown, VA, remarked after hearing about last week's tragedy. "I wish we could take [Christopher] in, but with my mother-in-law living with us and being so sick, we can't."_

Harry looked up at Draco with raised eyebrows. "Brilliant," he said, handing the article to Hedge in turn. "There is our connection with the Pattersons'. We have to be right that he is related to each victim."

"So, let's go over what we know so far. The first victims, the Pattersons of Jamestown, were his cousins. The fourth family, the Stewarts of Newport News, Virginia, had the same last name as Isolt's husband," Draco said, turning towards Harry and Hedge.

"Though not actually related, strange mistake," Hedge interjected.

"Right," Draco continued. "Then we have the Boots of Jersey City in our sixth murder, related to the Sayre's through one of Isolt's daughters, and finally the seventh murder, the Story's, in Plymouth."

"That one is shaky, though, as we guess it is only because of the name association with Isolt Sayre's hidden identity," Harry added. "Which leaves us with the second, third, fifth, and eighth murders. Those are the next connections to establish."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"So I said, 'that's not a very nice thing to say to me on my birthday.'" Harry, Wiggs and Draco all laughed companionably at the punchline of Hedge's story as they entered the safehouse.

"So did you detain him?" Harry asked, grinning still.

"Of course," Hedge laughed. "He was trespassing. Nice guy, though."

The four continued chatting as everyone pulled off their wet cloaks, waving their wands over them to dry. Harry took them to hang them in the broom closet before removing his own boots. When he shut the closet door, Hedge was standing on the other side holding up a glass and a bottle of fire whiskey. "It's Friday, Harry, don't make that face."

Harry shook his head, smiling. "Alright, fine, I'll be right back, though." He went quickly to his room to change from his work clothes into his usual faded t-shirt and sweatpants. When he returned, he sat down next to Draco who had already draped himself elegantly at the end of the couch. Hedge passed Harry a drink before sitting opposite of Wiggs, occupying armchairs that flanked either end of the couch.

"What about you, Harry?" Hedge asked, "You must have tons of ridiculous auror stories."

"Nah," Harry said, smiling. "Not many that'll fit the mood."

Draco leaned forward, drawing attention from Harry as he started telling his own story. Harry was dimly surprised Draco came to his rescue. He enjoyed watching Draco gesture through the recollection of one of his early patrol partners almost getting overwhelmed by pukwudgies. When Harry thought about it, the story really could have been frightening at the time, but with Draco's charm and dry sense of humor, they were all bent over laughing by the conclusion.

The night continued that way for several hours, even with Wiggs chipping in a story or two. Around midnight, Wiggs retired first, followed shortly by Hedge. Harry leaned back comfortably on the couch, resting his now-empty glass on his knee. He heard Draco clear his throat delicately so he looked over at him making immediate eye contact.

Maybe it was the warm presence in his head and stomach from the whiskey, but he was struck again by the elegance of the slender man next to him. Draco sat comfortably in the corner of the couch, angled slightly towards Harry with one knee crossed over the other. He had one arm lying along the arm rest, the other draped along the back of the couch, his hand dangling inches from Harry's shoulder. The light grey button down shirt he wore strengthened the color of his eyes into a dark steel.

Harry broke the eye contact, not trusting himself to not blush under the warm and intense stare. The undivided attention from Draco made Harry suddenly quite aware of his body and how undignified his slouch was. He shifted to improve his posture, pushing a hand through his hair. He had promised himself he would talk to Draco, but still couldn't gather the muster, even with the strength of the alcohol. Harry coughed a little and started to lean forward as if to stand but stopped and looked over again at Draco. Three of Draco's fingers were resting on his shoulder, silently asking him to stay.

Draco's expression was still unreadable, humor behind his grey eyes, and the slightest smile on his lips. Harry relaxed again against the back of the couch and the fingers dropped away again.

"Were you not on patrol long before you became an inspector auror?" Draco asked quietly. "Surely you have some interesting stories."

"Er, not really. Kingsley didn't want me on the street when I finished my basic training. He put me directly into training for detective after only a few weeks."

"Safer that way, I suppose," Draco said, teasing but not cutting.

"Yeah, I hated it at the time. He didn't mean to, but it made it so I had even more to prove to the other aurors."

Draco nodded quietly, not removing his sharp eyes from Harry. "Special treatment as an auror is rarely a favor."

Harry snorted. "Especially from the Minister himself." He swirled the remaining ice around in his glass, looking at it. "When I caught my Lieutenant selling confiscated dark artifacts back to acquitted Death Eater families the Minister was all too pleased to pressure the Head Auror to promote me into his position."

"A family like mine," Draco mused quietly.

"O-oh, no. Sorry," Harry said, inwardly cursing himself as he shook his head. "I didn't mean to…." He trailed off when the three fingers touched the back of his shoulder again.

"It's okay."

Harry sat there awkwardly, unsure what to say or why Draco wanted him to stay. He did know that he didn't want the strangely warm presence of the fingers to leave his shoulder.

Draco considered him for a few more seconds before he spoke quietly. "How did you survive? In the woods that day?"

Harry looked back at him, this time it being his turn to study Draco. "In the Forbidden Forest?" he asked.

Draco nodded silently.

"Your mum."

"I know that part, but before that. Why didn't it work? The killing curse."

"Sacrifice, Draco. Loving others more than yourself," Harry said quietly, swirling his glass, ignoring Draco's eye roll at his sentimentality. He continued: "I accepted that I needed to die to be able to save everyone. I _wanted_ to die so I could save everyone."

"Your mum sacrificed herself for you, and you lived. You sacrificed yourself for the whole wizarding world. And yet you lived again. But Lily died."

Harry hesitated for a few long seconds. "I was the last horcrux. I could have died that day, but…I didn't want to."

"You didn't want to," Draco repeated flatly with disbelief.

"No," Harry said a little more defensively than he intended.

Draco looked away from Harry. "Potter," Draco started with the first trace of hesitation Harry could detect. "You don't think we are going to have another Dark Lord rise, do you?" Draco was controlling his tone very carefully, trying to sound as passively disinterested as possible.

Harry looked at Draco again for several seconds, careful of his response. Over the months, Harry had gotten much better at reading Draco; when he was controlling his expression as carefully as he was now, with just a tinge of flippant disinterest on his face, Harry could only imagine the man was terrified. Harry softened his expression and his tone. "No, Draco, I don't think it will come to that."

"I am not scared, Potter," Draco said waspishly, looking back at him as an eyebrow rose. "I just don't want to deal with all the bloody paperwork."

Harry laughed, surprising Draco who glowered lightly at him in response, though Harry was pretty sure he saw the edges of Draco's lips quirk briefly into a smile. "Of course you don't," Harry said, smiling. "I think the Heir is trying too hard. He knows we are close, and is just trying to scare us into becoming desperate." He pushed a hand through his messy hair.

"Perhaps," was all Draco had to respond with, back to his calm demeanor.

"Erm, look, I have wanted to ask you something, too," Harry said, twisting to face Draco, leaning against the couch with his shoulder, one foot tucked under him. The fingers lifted from his shoulder when he started moving, but once he was still, they rested again, this time on the end of his collarbone instead of his shoulder. Harry forced his focus away from the fingers, plunging ahead.

"Why didn't you turn me in? In the Manor. I heard what you said at the trial, but I guess I -"

"Wanted to know if it was true?" Draco finished for him in his infuriatingly calm drawl.

"Yeah."

"What did I say, Potter?"

Harry frowned a little at him. "You were pressured into it by your parents. You didn't actually believe in what Voldemort was doing. You wanted to switch sides but you didn't know how, and that was one of the few ways you could safely rebel."

"Plus, I thought you would die anyway," Draco added dryly with half-lidded eyes.

"Thanks for the confidence," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"What else do you want me to say, Potter? I don't know how else I can convince you that it was a desperate time. I am not proud of what I did or tried to do. I wish I could have been more brave, but I was a coward. I have spent the last ten years trying to make up for that."

Harry stared at Draco, unsure how to respond.

"Not to mention I was madly in love with you," Draco said, dripping with sarcasm as humor danced behind his eyes.

Harry laughed, the tension suddenly gone. "Sure you were," Harry said comfortably. "I never thanked you for doing that, though."

Draco watched Harry quietly for a few seconds, waiting. When Harry said no more, his eyebrow perked. "You still haven't," he remarked, amused.

Harry winked at him and stood from the couch. "Night, Draco," he said quietly, moving towards his bedroom.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Draco let out a low chuckle when Potter stood, appreciating the clear reference to Draco's previous refusal to thank Potter. As he walked towards the door, Draco looked back down at the couch where Potter had been seated. "Potter -" he started, leaning forward to pick up Potter's wand that he had accidentally left behind.

Draco sucked in a quick breath as he looked at the black and brown hawthorne wand he had picked up. It had been his for the first six years of Hogwarts before Potter had taken it from him in the Manor that day. Draco had always felt a deep regret at losing the wand, despite its ties to so many terrible memories. Harry had saved it all these years. Draco knew Harry was looking at him, so he quickly composed himself, masking his face. He sat back again as he rolled the familiar wood in between his fingers. "Good night, Harry," he said quietly without looking up.

Harry smiled, nodded, and left the room.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

On Sunday morning, the sun still had not risen by the time the Harry and Wiggs returned to the safehouse from their run. They were now located in an old farmhouse in upstate New York. It was one of Harry's favorites so far as it really reminded him of the Weasley's house. Draco hated it.

"Good morning," Harry said as he and Wiggs entered through the kitchen. They quickly began stripping off the outer layers of their running gear in the heat of the house. Draco already had a fire going in the hearth but looked up from the stuffed chair on which he sat, one knee crossed over the other. He looked disparagingly at the pile of clothes that was draped unceremoniously over the dining chairs.

After a quick hot shower, Harry poured himself a coffee. He returned to the living room quietly, sitting down on the sofa a safe distance from Draco with his own book. He looked down at the Latin pages outlining the major pure-blood family lines, though his eyes immediately unfocused. He had been slowly teaching himself Latin over the last several years, but it still took more concentration that he was currently able to muster in order to read the pages.

Once he had been able to get out of the house and get back to work, he had found it a lot easier to focus on the case and go without dwelling on Alec. They agreed that as friends, they could see other people, and revisit their relationship once he returned. This was more relieving for Harry than he had expected. He anticipated being upset or angry at the insisted distance once Alec accepted his apology, but it instead found it rather freeing. This just left him to figure out what to do with Draco. Often he found himself amused that he was even in this position to begin with, considering how their relationship was during the War.

"Can I help you, Potter?" Draco asked in a bored drawl, not looking up from his book. Harry had been attempting to surreptitiously watch Draco instead of reading and was apparently doing a bad job of it. Draco turned a page.

"Oh, er, just -" Harry mumbled, looking back down at his book.

"Admiring the view?" Draco finished for him, finally looking up as he rested his cheek on his fingertips supported on his elbow. He gazed at Harry with slight amusement.

Harry snorted, fidgeting with the pages of his own book. "Did you want to practice the patronus charm today?" he asked, changing the subject. Harry didn't understand why Draco could fluster him so easily now. When he had still been with Alec, he could more easily brush off Draco, but now that Harry was free to speculate, it was different. The prat had the irritating ability to make him blush.

Draco sighed and closed his book. "Sure, Potter, I have nothing better to do." He stood, tugging the panels of his navy blue coat to smooth out his appearance. The two had practiced only a handful of times before with no success. Draco was clearly disappointed, though remained undeterred. While he never suggested another session, he had acquiesced whenever Harry suggested it.

Donning their winter cloaks, they made their way outside. The sun was up by now, though it was hard to tell in the overcast sky. Harry couldn't help but admire Draco as he turned to face him, his grey eyes calm with sharp features set in determination. His pale golden hair stood out against the dark grey sky, while his black robe was in stark contrast to the white snow on the ground.

"Go on," Harry prompted, watching him raise his wand. Ten years ago he wouldn't have believed he would be standing across from Draco Malfoy, his own wand safely tucked in his sleeve while Draco held his aloft. Now, it didn't even make him blink.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Nearly 30 minutes later, Draco intoned again: " _Expecto patronum_." As he spoke, he moved his wand in the way Harry had instructed him. Nothing happened.

"What memory are you using?" Harry asked. He moved forward so he was standing a foot or so behind Draco to his right.

Draco looked back at him, turning slightly. "The first time I flew." Harry chuckled. "What's wrong with that?" Draco snapped.

"Oh, nothing. That was just the first memory I tried to use, too. Didn't work for me, either."

Draco grunted, frowning off to the side.

"Been awhile since I played quidditch," Harry continued lightly.

"Likewise."

"We should...go flying sometime," Harry suggested as he shrugged a shoulder.

Draco's gaze snapped back to Harry again, a silent eyebrow raised. Harry sputtered a little. "I mean, like practice quidditch or something. Since it has been a while. When the weather gets better. I haven't done that in ages." He stuffed his hands in his robe pockets as he spoke.

"Potter, you're babbling."

"Er, right. What other memories can you use?" Harry said, changing the subject back again.

"I don't know. My mother reading to me as a child."

"Stronger than that. Think about the happiest you have ever been. Times with Parkinson or Zabini. Times with those baboon lackies you had in school."

"Crabbe and Goyle," Draco correctly with a slight chuckle.

"Sure. What about with them?"

Draco was quiet for a second. "I think I was happy at the time, but now…." He trailed off, not looking at Harry.

"Okay, something after school, then. When you first arrived to America. Maybe getting your job. Promotion?" Harry suggested.

Draco was quiet as he turned away from Harry again, raising his hand to make another attempt. Harry stepped forward, reaching out to place a hand on Draco's wrist to stop him. He was standing directly behind Draco's right hand side. "Really focus on it," he said quietly as he simultaneously tried to not focus on how close he was to Draco.

Draco didn't turn to look at Harry, instead closing his eyes as he tipped his head down slightly. Harry watched him, aware of how much Draco was trusting him. He left his hand on Draco's gloved wrist as he continued speaking. "Think about how good it felt. The pride, the excitement, whatever it was that made it a turning point in your life."

A small smile tugged on Draco's features. When he opened his eyes again, Harry released his wrist, but didn't move away from him. "Expecto _patronum_ ," Draco intoned.

Nothing happened.

"It's okay. Concentrate on that happy feeling," Harry whispered.

"Stop talking," Draco commanded in his own whisper. Harry silently rolled his eyes, but obeyed. " _Expecto patronum,"_ Draco commanded with more force, swishing his wrist. He paused, not lowering his wand. Harry considered saying something until he saw Draco's eyes close again, his brow furrowed.

" _Expecto patronum_." A thin silvery strand escaped his wand. It wasn't much, but it was more than many wizards could produce in their lifetime.

"Fantastic, Draco!" Harry said enthusiastically. "What memory did you -"

Draco spun around, grabbing either side of Harry's face and pressed his lips to Harry's. Surprised, Harry yelped into Draco's mouth, both hands automatically flying up to either side to keep his balance as he was forced to take a step back. When the shock wore off, he kissed back, lowering his hands carefully to Draco's sides. He decided to stop thinking about why it was happening and instead focus on what was happening. Draco moved one of his hands up to grip a fist full of Harry's hair at the back of his head, giving Harry no chance to escape, not that Harry wanted to. The other gloved hand was gripping the back of Harry's neck almost painfully.

Harry lost himself into the dizzying kiss, wrapping his arms more fully around Draco's slim torso, dimly annoyed that they both wore so many layers. A small chuckle more akin to a purr issued from Draco's throat and he finally pulled back to gaze at Harry. His grey eyes were passionate but also challenging as if he dared Harry to argue. "Come on, Potter," he said huskily, taking Harry's arm and pulling him towards the house.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As Harry and Draco entered through the backdoor, they passed by Wiggs sitting on the couch. His raised his eyebrows as he watched Draco drag Harry into his bedroom, a determined smirk on Draco's face. Neither of them noticed or acknowledged Wiggs, which was just as well. "Finally," Wiggs muttered, flicking his wand to casually cast a silence charm before he looked back down at the book in his lap.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

After Draco pulled Harry through his bedroom door, he shut it with a snap, rounding on Harry. Harry watched him hungrily as Draco started to push Harry's winter cloak off. "And you said _I_ have been acting weird," he said in between passionate kisses, obligingly dropping his cloak to the floor as Draco dropped his own.

"Why must you talk?" Draco asked quietly, covering Harry's lips with his own as his hands pushed up underneath Harry's shirt.

"I thought you hated me," Harry said with a chuckle, tilting his chin back as Draco's lips moved down his jaw to his neck.

"I do," Draco said without pause, reaching down to Harry's belt.

"Draco," Harry started, his hands halting Draco's, "As much as I enjoy this, why are you -"

"You are still talking," Draco warned, his hands stopping on Harry's hips.

"I just want to know -"

"It was your stupid patronus, Potter," Draco snapped, staring into Harry's eyes, unblinking. He took a step back. "The memory I used was when I saw your patronus in the woods. I have never seen or experienced anything like it, and it made me feel happier than I ever have." The words almost sounded like they hurt Draco as he growled them.

"So?" Harry said defensively. He found he was both startled and a little flattered.

"It is stupid and embarrassing, and I _hate_ it," Draco continued, his voice cold and low. "I hate _you_ for forcing me to realize that I have not been happy in my adult life and it took being around _you_ for me to understand what it means to feel normal. I realize I have been coasting along, regretting _everything_ in my life, embarrassed and ashamed. Then, once again you come swooping in to save me and now I am able to summon that _pathetic_ excuse of a wisp." As Draco spoke, his voice gradually rose in volume, punctuating different words with long-held contempt.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco continued: "Even when you _fucked_ me, that was the best shag I had ever had," Draco continued, gesturing angrily with his hand. "You can't even let me have _that_ for myself. No, everything has to be because of Harry sodding Potter and what graces he has given me. _That_ is the kind of control I wish I had over my life, but I can't even have that. You made me fucking _addicted_ to you and it isn't bloody fair.

"To make matters worse, there isn't even a possibility that you will stay with me because all you ever talk about is your bloody muggle and going back to bloody London. As far as I can see, I have no fucking chance of discovering what else makes me happy in life because all I want is _you_. So, yes, Harry, _I fucking hate you_."

Harry took a step back, stunned. "Draco, I...had no idea."

"Of course you didn't! You just stomp around, trying to please everyone around you, yet you have no _fucking_ idea what you are doing and you are bloody oblivious to other people's feelings. You have no idea what it is like to have to be around you all the time, watching the whole wizarding world gaze lovingly at you as if they fucking know anything about you. They didn't have to grow up with you, but I did!

"Even from birth you didn't have to try to get people to like you. Your parents were heroes. Hogwarts, all of England, the fucking _world_ worshiped you like you could do no wrong. Do you have any idea what it is like to grow up in that shadow?"

"I -"

"No! You don't! How could you? The minute I found out you were coming to the states, I knew what would happen." Draco's voice darkened, dropping back down to a low, threatening pitch as he continued, "When we catch the Heir, which we will, do you know who people are going to remember caught our generation's worst American serial killer? _Harry fucking Potter_ , that's who."

"I don't want that fame, I never have!" Harry shouted back.

"Well, I do!" Draco bellowed. "I want to be remembered by something _good_ that I did, not the terrible things my parents were involved in. I can't even talk to my mother without -"

"At least you have a mother -"

"Oh, come off it, Potter! That is weak and stupid and you know it." Draco glared at Harry in a way he hadn't seen since their fifth year, full of anguish and searing hatred.

Harry took a step back involuntarily, but Draco continued. "Ever since we fucked, you have been flipping back and forth on me, one day being charming, the next being dismissive and angry. I do not understand what you want from me. Then, when I rescue you, you insist on being all innocent and strange, leading me on. Merlin, I don't even understand what I want from _you_ because I am so fucking confused about your signals and what is in my head.

"Not to mention your fucking stag had me all but convinced that I am practically in love with you, but _you_ _-"_ Draco said, pointing aggressively at Harry, "- don't give a fucking damn because you still have that worthless muggle you are carting around. Then you have the gall to fucking ask me out on, what, a date -"

"Alec and I aren't together right now," Harry argued.

"Right now? Well, I guess that just makes it okay, then, doesn't it?" Draco snapped angrily.

"I'm sorry!" Harry yelled, unsure what else to say, though his mind was reeling with everything Draco had said. "I didn't mean to lead you on, I was just...confused and lonely, and angry, and I had no idea what I was doing." Draco made a sound as if he was going to interrupt, but Harry held up a hand. "I wish you would have talked to me about this sooner." When Draco's eyes flared, he continued quickly, "Not that it is your fault. I just didn't realize you felt this way."

"I don't know what I feel. Your bloody patronus -"

"Has nothing to do with this. Draco," Harry said, stepping forward to grab Draco's shoulders to force him to look at him.

"Don't touch me," Draco snapped, twisting out of Harry's hands before he crossed his arms defiantly.

Harry held his hands up, taking a step back. "Look. I am sorry for what I did. I don't know what else to say to you."

Draco glared at him, finally silent.

"I am sorry," Harry said, a little pleading in his voice.

"Get out," Draco finally growled looking away from Harry. He stepped to the side so he wasn't blocking the door.

"Draco…."

"Get out!" Draco yelled. Before Draco tightly closed his eyes, Harry saw angry tears forming, which clearly Draco didn't want him to see. Harry reached down, picked up his robe, and quickly fled the room. Draco slammed the door after him before Harry had a chance to close it. He stared at the door for a few seconds, mind drawing a blank as to what to do next.

"Harry?" Wiggs said from the living room, a touch of concern in his voice. Harry looked over at him, aware his own eyes were glossy. "You okay?"

"Yeah, Sam," he replied quietly.

"The captain?"

"Apparently not."

Wiggs was quiet for a second before he stood, setting his book to the side. He walked into the kitchen and started making tea. "Sit," he commanded, indicating towards the kitchen table.

Harry hesitated, glancing at Draco's bedroom before looking back at Wiggs who was no longer facing him. He sighed, walked into the kitchen and dropped himself into a chair. He rested his forehead in both of his hands, elbows on the table.

A few silent minutes passed while Wiggs made tea. "Well?" he finally prompted, setting a steaming mug in front of Harry before sitting himself.

"I...don't know where to start."

Wiggs was silent.

"He is angry with me," Harry said quietly, his head still in his hands. "And he is right to be. I guess I don't really have an excuse for my behavior." It was clear to Harry now that Draco had been harboring all this resentment for awhile and Harry had no idea.

Wiggs watched Harry critically, his fingers threaded on the table in front of him. He was silent long enough that Harry dropped his hands and looked back up at him. Wiggs was frowning at him seriously. "You two had sex months ago. I can't believe you haven't resolved this yet."

"Wh-what? We didn't - that wasn't - how did you -"

Wiggs gave him a withering look. "You haven't been very careful." Harry blinked back at him dumbly. When Harry didn't answer, Wiggs continued. "Harry, get over it. You are an auror. Fucking act like one." Wiggs stood and walked out of the room, heading down the hallway to his bedroom. Harry stared after him, completely bewildered.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 **Author's Note:** Apparently Draco was really angry for a while, because when I thought I would be writing a sex scene, it definitely didn't turn out that way. Review/comment if you like. :) That was bar far one of my favorite scenes to write.


	12. A Grim Sign

**Chapter 12:** A Grim Sign

Something was wrong.

Wand already in hand, Harry rolled silently out from underneath his bed, rising to a crouch. He glanced around the room quickly before his eyes landed on his window. As he made his way carefully towards the window, he dropped to the ground instantly when three loud taps rapped against his door. "Potter! Get up!" Draco shouted.

Harry was at the door and opening it before Draco had a chance to move two steps from the door. "The headmaster sent his patronus. Let's go." Without another word of explanation, Draco turned and ran down the stairs, pounding on Hedge's and Wiggs' doors as he had Harry's.

They were assembled in less than two minutes, hurrying out of the New Hampshire safehouse. With a crack, the four disapparated, appearing on the edge of the Ilvermorny grounds. Who they knew to be the head of the Thunderbird house, Sylvia Braxon, was waiting for them. "Good, come," she said, taking off at a run towards the mansion, her burgundy robes flowing around her.

Draco led the other three after her, his wand out. The sun had not yet risen; it was probably four or five in the morning. The grounds were eerily quiet until they entered the front doors of the school. Screaming bombarded them as they entered the main hall. Younger students ran up and down the corridor, following older students as they led them to safety.

When they rounded a corner, entering the main dining hall, Harry stopped in his tracks and gasped. _Harry glanced around the chaos of the destroyed Great Hall. Students and staff lined the bleachers along the walls. Bodies lay in rows on the floor, covered with dirty sheets. Haunting moans and cries echoed endlessly, inescapable._

 _Harry surveyed the people around him, walking slowly through the dead. He felt numb to the emotions surrounding him. He was overcome by a sense of desolation fueled by guilt so pervasive that he was physically restricted by it. His breathing and movements were subdued. So much sorrow, so much dread, all because Harry couldn't find the diadem faster. It was all so avoidable if he could have just done the one thing asked of him._

 _This scene never let him leave, as he had when he was seventeen, to go to the pensieve to find salvation in purpose. Instead, Harry was forced to move about the room in a daze. He did not belong here, walking with those who felt true loss and pain. He looked down at Lupin, Tonks, Lavender Brown, and fifty other young faces, their lives cut short for him. It was unnatural._

 _In life, he was armed with the knowledge that while they all fought to keep him alive, he would have to die to save them. This was a sacrifice that he would have made tenfold. He felt no kinship with martyrdom, he did not consider it a burden, he merely thought it the correct conclusion to a life that never learned how to live. If only he could escape to the pensieve, to find his purpose and duty, he could end this suffering. This was what he was raised for, this was what he needed to do._

Harry felt a hard slap on his cheek, making his vision blur and flux. "Don't you _fucking_ do this right now," came Draco's harsh words. Harry focused his eyes on Draco standing in front of him. He blinked rapidly, willing his increased breathing to calm. The grey eyes regarded him with a sharp, impatient concern.

"Right," he said with more strength than he felt. He heard the feral howling the same time as the rest of this group, all heads swinging towards the eastern entrance to the room. "Let's go," Harry said, this time taking the lead in an effort to leave behind the scene in the dining hall.

Braxon kept pace with Harry, partially leading them towards the sound of the fighting, partially as if to guard Harry. As they neared a section of the hallway that ended perpendicularly into another hallway, they skidded to a halt. A monstrously large black wolf skidded to a stop in front of them as if thrown. It's thick fur was matted with a viscous black oil that sizzled when it dripped to the ground. The substance was quite similar to that which covered the most recent victim.

The headmaster was locked in battle with three other huge hounds, having just repelled the hound that now stood in front of Harry and his companions. Wounded students cowered at different points in the hall, the headmaster doing everything in his power to keep them safe. Around him swirled _ignus resticula_ , the same firestorm charm Dumbledore had used on the inferi in the locket cave. Two more students huddled by the hem of his robes, pock marked with burns from the putrid oil.

Harry grabbed a fistful of Hedge's robes. "Get the children out!" he screamed into his face over the tumultuous noise of the room. Hedge nodded and ran off to collect who he could to escort them to safety. Harry could see at least two more dogs up the hallway, kept at bay by several professors. Draco and Wiggs had already engaged one of the dogs, whipping out spells in rapid succession. Harry moved towards the headmaster, assisting him with two more dogs.

There was something strange about these hounds. They had a dreadful ethereal quality to them not unlike dementors. Their jaws enlarged as they snapped, their claws elongated impossibly when they struck. They appeared to Harry as Dark magic constructs or perhaps transfigured or corrupted common wolves.

All spells seemed to bounce off of them with the exception of fire; fire alone seemed to keep them at bay, filling the hallway with the smell of decomposing flesh and scorched hair. Without thinking, Harry swirled his wand in front of him as he cried out: " _Expecto igneo patronum_!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Draco had been keeping a careful eye on Potter throughout the battle, determined not to let the Chosen One get maimed or kidnapped under his watch again. Not only was it his duty, but he also could reluctantly admit it was a wonder to watch the black-haired wizard battle. Potter had no where near the magical strength of wizards such as Dumbledore, Headmaster Fontaine, or even Severus Snape, but the rate at which he could sling spells was dizzying. Chaining spell after spell was a difficult thing to do, but Draco imagined Potter was so adept partially because he had taught himself Latin.

When Potter cast a modified patronus charm, Draco expected to see dementors storming the halls when he jerked his head to look over at him. Instead, he saw Potter standing with both the children and headmaster shielded behind him as he held his wand aloft. From the tip, a torrent of red and gold liquid fire gushed forth, cascading down the halls in either direction. A wave of heat hit Draco as burning light washed over them, led by a galloping, partially corporeal, golden stag.

Pulse after pulse of light emitted from Potter, each wave driving the hounds further away. As they were pinned against walls or doors they erupted in shrill beastial cries, agonizing as they writhed in flame. Within a minute, the last hound crumpled into a pile of ash, dissolved by the power of the spell.

Draco saw Wiggs move forward out of the corner of his eye, sprinting towards Potter as he collapsed to the ground. Draco followed on his heels but turned to the headmaster before tending to Potter. "Get everyone to the dining hall. Hedge will help you. Take attendance of your students. We will search to be sure there are no more beasts," Draco instructed.

Fontaine nodded, briefly squeezing Draco's shoulder in thanks. He glanced at Potter once with a complex expression before he ushered more children down the hall, accompanied by Hedge. Draco turned back to Potter, kneeling next to him. He was conscious, but clearly suffering from magical exhaustion. "Potter. Can you stand?"

"Yeah," came Potter's shaky response, taking the arm that Draco offered. Potter swayed briefly once standing, a hand remaining firmly on Draco's shoulder. Draco wrapped an arm around Potter's ribs, still frowning at him.

"We should get you to a healer," Draco said, guiding him towards the nearest exit.

"No," Potter said, turning to look after the headmaster. "We have to help."

"You can barely stand. We will come back to help the second we get you to safety."

"No, take me to the dining hall, I just need to rest for a second." Potter tried to weakly push Draco away which just resulted in Wiggs taking up his other arm and also wrapping an arm around his ribs. Wiggs and Draco locked eyes.

"I will take him. You stay," Wiggs said to Draco. Draco nodded. He knew Wiggs' primary responsibility was Potter's safety while Draco's first was arguably the investigation, school, and the protection of the students. He released Potter and ran down the hall after the headmaster without looking back.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Later that evening, Draco apparated to the hospital. Hedge reported to him that the healers released Potter into their care and Draco felt it was his responsibility to be there to get him. Hedge also said that due to the attack they would change safehouses that night, so before journeying to the hospital, Draco had packed up both his and Potter's belongings. Neither of them unpacked much anymore, so it was a quick job.

"Potter," he greeted coldly when he entered Potter's private hospital room. He kept his face set with no expression. He hadn't talked to Potter after his tirade the day before, and while his anger still simmered, he did feel vaguely embarrassed. It was unusual for Draco to allow himself to rage as much as he had; that type of explosive reaction was quite contrary to the caged way he was taught to deal with conflict, especially of the emotional sort. Something about Potter had set him off, resulting in years of pent up jealousy and anger spilling forth.

"Draco," Potter responded, his voice distant, but his eyes searching Draco's for something. He was already dressed and was sitting on his bed waiting. He looked irritated, probably from losing an argument to Hedge about returning to Ilvermorny versus moving on to safety. Wiggs and Hedge stood nearby, arms crossed.

"Come," Wiggs said, taking the lead. As usual, he was the only one who knew their destination. Once outside the hospital, Wiggs held out his arm to the other three so he could safely apparate them. The familiar squeezing feeling ended with them landing on solid ground, so Draco released his hold on Wiggs.

Draco frowned. At first he might have thought they were still apparating if it wasn't for his feet firmly on the ground. It was pitch black. He groped out to the side automatically where he knew Potter had been standing. He felt nothing. "Potter?" he called, an urgency to his voice.

A hand connected with his shoulder. "Here. Hedge?" Potter asked. Draco reached his other hand out again, trying to find one of the other aurors.

"I am here," said Hedge's voice to Draco's right.

"Here," said Wiggs in front of him.

"Can anyone see?" Draco asked.

"No," the other three said in near unison. Another hand gripped Draco's right arm.

" _Homenum revelio_ ," Draco whispered. The outlines of the other three illuminated in a pale yellow light, surrounding him. He looked around but didn't see any other haloed figure until Wiggs shifted. Directly behind Wiggs was another person. "Wiggs, down!" Draco yelled suddenly, flicking his wand to throw a stunning charm at the unknown figure as Wiggs dropped to the floor. The person's arm shifted, deflecting the spell.

Potter, Hedge, and Wiggs all cast the human-revealing charm, scattering to engage in combat with the figure. The darkness was absolute. Duelling in absolute darkness was disorienting without the ability to see the spells flying back and forth. With how quickly they all spread out, there was no way they could all reconnect to apparate to safety.

Draco saw Potter drop out of the corner of his eye with a startled cry, no doubt easily taken down due to fatigue. Hedge fell not long after that when he moved to protect Potter, leaving just Draco and Wiggs. Draco assumed whatever spell descended the area into darkness did not affect their attacker as he appeared to be unhindered.

Draco and Wiggs managed to flank their attacker, forcing him away from the prone Potter and Hedge. With an irritated yell, the man set off an explosion at Draco's feet, causing him to stumble backwards, shrapnel tearing through his robes to cut him superficially. When he lowered the arm protecting his face, the attacker was gone and the inky blackness began to dissipate.

Draco made eye contact with Wiggs and leapt forward, grabbing the collar of his robe forcefully and shoved his wand up to the soft underpart of his chin. "What did I tell you when you came to my office after receiving this assignment?" Draco hissed.

The startled look on Wiggs' face disappeared immediately. "'If we don't get a promotion for babysitting Potter, than there is something wrong with this country,'" Wiggs quoted. Draco nodded, releasing his grip on the other wizard. Wiggs maintained his stare, his own wand still in his hand. "Where did we first meet?"

Draco maintained eye contact. "Coincidentally, in the airport, before I was an auror. I had just arrived in America, and you just returned from escorting the Indian ambassador home."

Wiggs nodded. Both men turned to look for Hedge and Potter. Hedge was covering Potter with his own body, both men stunned. Wordlessly, Wiggs touched each of them, and once Draco put a hand on his shoulder they apparated again.

"Blindfold both of them," Wiggs commanded once they arrived in a small field. He pulled a small box from his pocket and set it on the ground. Draco did as he was instructed and turned to see Wiggs tapping the box in a specific rhythm. The box began unfolding, clicking and snapping as it expanded. Stepping away from the box, Wiggs walked several meters from Draco and raised both his wand and his empty hand. He began casting concealment charms on their surrounding area, making them unplottable and protected from muggles among other things. Draco kept watch over Hedge and Potter, though most of his attention was turned to the box as it expanded.

Eventually Wiggs came back over to Draco. "Our security was breached," he explained calmly as he gestured to the unfolding shelter. "I was to use this only if a safehouse was compromised. Even the president doesn't know where we are now." He turned back to watch the strange cubic building that was forming from the small box.

A minute or two later, Wiggs stepped up to the porch and entered, glanced around, then returned to help Draco get the other two inside. "Put them in different rooms. We will wake them one at a time."

"Are you really just a senior auror?" Draco asked suspiciously as he tied Potter to a chair. The likelihood of an honest answer was slim, but the question slipped out before he could stop it. Half the spells Wiggs had cast to protect their base Draco didn't even recognize. Draco was sure Wiggs was no simple bodyguard.

"What else would I be, Captain?" he responded calmly as the two moved to tbe room containing Hedge. They came to a stop in front of a blindfolded Hedge. " _Finite."_

Hedge's head lifted. "Wha-"

"Frank. Who was Samantha Esma?"

Hedge seemed to realize what was happening and looked in the direction of Wiggs' voice. "You," he said without pause. Draco blinked. That was a surprise. Wiggs clearly trusted Draco if he was willing to use something that personal as a test of identity. Wiggs tapped his wand on Hedge's shoulder, dissolving the bindings. Without another word he strode from the room. Draco followed him, Hedge trailing behind.

Once in the room with Potter, Wiggs followed the same protocol, tapping Harry to wake him. He looked to Draco to ask a question. Draco paused before he asked. "In our sixth year, with what spell did you nearly kill me?"

Potter's head swung to face Draco, still blindfolded. " _Sectumsempra_." Draco nodded and reached out, tapping Potter' shoulder gently with his wand to dissolve the bindings. When the blindfold fell away, Potter's green eyes locked onto Draco's, full of unnecessary guilt and shame. A little surprised, Draco just frowned at him and nodded once and held out a hand to Potter. He looked at the hand briefly before reaching up to take it as he stood. Draco left their hands clasped for a fraction of a second longer than was strictly necessary, accepting the apology that poured out of the other man's expression. The gesture was not lost on Potter and he nodded once back at Draco before he released his hand and turned back to Hedge and Wiggs.

The four of them were quiet for a second, watching each other. "I will make tea," Hedge said carefully. "Come."

They followed him out to the living room. "Before we ask the most glaring question of how we were followed, let's back up to the attack at Ilvermorny," Draco eventually said once they were all arranged around the square dinner table.

"It was a reference to our third year at Hogwarts," Potter said without hesitation.

"What was?" Hedge asked.

"The hounds."

"How so?" Hedge asked.

"The grim," Draco said.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "The rumor went around that I was being plagued by a grim. It was actually my godfather, an unregistered animagus."

"Is that supposed to be a hint at something?" Hedge asked.

"Maybe he is an animagus?" Draco suggested.

"Maybe," Harry said. They were quiet again.

"Harry...how did you make that patronus?" Hedge asked.

"I...don't know. Those things reminded me of dementors and I could tell they were vulnerable to fire. It just made sense to try it."

"Wait, you hadn't cast that before?" Hedge asked.

"No." Everyone stared at Potter. He didn't look up from his hands. His face was ashen, eyes dull. He was clearly exhausted.

"Even for you, Potter, that was incredibly dangerous, not to mention stupid," Draco said with a snide tone. "So many things can go wrong when you test new spells."

Potter threw him a look. "Well, it worked, didn't it?" Draco blinked slowly at him. For Potter to have been able to modify a spell as intricate and powerful as the patronus charm was either due to extreme luck or that was the one type of magic he excelled at. For some wizards it was transfiguration, others divination, but for Potter it was the patronus charm. Unusual.

"So why the attack?" Hedge asked.

"No message was left," Draco commented.

"Were the dogs targeting the headmaster, maybe?"

"Are we really not going to go back there?" Potter asked, a little bit of irritation in his voice.

"He was probably targeting you," Draco said to Harry. "That had to have been Mastin when we got to the safehouse. It must have been a trap for you."

"But he wasn't at the school. And I was at the hospital for several hours surrounded by aurors. Maybe it was a distraction?" Potter asked.

"It's hard to say. The headmaster was mostly concerned with collecting all the children."

"How many dead?" Potter asked.

Draco looked at him for a second before responding, not liking the detached tone in which he had asked the question. "14. Fontaine is going to send everyone home now. They are going to close the school temporarily."

Harry nodded, looking down again. "Well, if the attacks at the end of last year were a reference to my second year, then the dogs were a reference to my third year. I would guess next is the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and I have no idea how he would stage something like that."

They fell into silence again.

"I need to go meet with the President," Wiggs said suddenly, standing. "We need to figure out how he followed us. There are only two or three people who know the location of the safehouse, myself included, so if we have a traitor, we need to find out who. Now." Draco nodded at Wiggs. Wiggs looked over at Hedge, his eyes flicking to Potter significantly.

"I got him," Hedge responded resolutely. Draco could practically hear Potter's eye roll.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Harry went to bed early that night, exhausted and drained. He didn't have the mental capacity to try to talk to Draco, though their brief exchange somehow made Harry feel a little bit better. It seemed Draco at least forgave him for his mistake in their sixth year, but now he had to address everything else Draco had said.

The next morning, Harry slept in longer than was typical for him. He knew he had dreams, though he thankfully could not recall them. When he exited his bedroom Draco was already sitting in the living room with Hedge. The two immediately stopped talking when he emerged. A little self-conscious, he bade them good morning before he went to the kitchen.

"Potter."

"Yeah?" he asked without turning around.

"Headmaster Fontaine sent us a message this morning. When you are ready, we need to go to the school."

"What did he find?"

"He found why there was an attack."

"Well, let's go," he said, putting down his cup immediately.

Draco held up a hand. "No. Eat. You need your strength."

"I am not a child, Draco."

"Then stop acting like one," Draco snapped back. "Be responsible with your health. We will go as soon as you have eaten."

"You should have woken me up."

Draco gave him a withering look before he returned to the living room.

Twenty minutes later, the three left the strange cube house and apparated to the deserted school. The hallways still bore the evidence of the battle that had taken place there the day before, though all the people were gone. Due to the wards, the headmaster knew when they arrived and met them on the way to his office. He reversed their direction and silently led them back out to the grounds.

It had been warmer than usual for a New England March. A gentle, invasive drizzle plagued the grounds, making their trek towards the quidditch field slick with mud and slush. Harry frowned as they approached the snakewood tree. As he expected, they came to a stop next to it. The formerly brilliant white bark was peeling and faded, crumbling like eggshells. The branches were wilting, giving the tree a sullen appearance.

The headmaster turned to look at them. "This is what he was here for." He indicated down to a gaping hole at the base of the tree.

"I don't follow," Draco said, frowning.

"Why is the tree dying?" Harry asked, remembering Fontaine's previous lecture that it was very difficult to kill.

"I believe, gentlemen, that this tree was not grown from a sprig of the tree that Salazar Slytherin's wand originated from. I believe that this tree actually grew from the wand itself. And he took it."

"What?" Harry said, stepping forward and placing a hand on the tree.

"I found an old collection of letters some weeks ago hidden in the personal library of the Headmaster. They were correspondence to and from the first headmistress, Morrigan, that hinted as much."

"In the Chamber of Truth," Harry mused quietly. He looked down in the hole. "So he created a distraction in order to have time to dig out the core from the tree?"

"I believe so."

"Is that why it is dying?"

"Perhaps."

"Why now?"

"Perhaps because the ground finally thawed."

*Did you tell anyone about the possibility of the wand being here?"

"Of course. A discovery like that is significant. I told the President and some fellow historians immediately."

Harry nodded, obviously disappointed. He glanced at Draco who looked quite unconvinced. "This has to be why," Harry said to him.

"Perhaps," Draco said slowly, his eyes wandering to the woods. "Headmaster," he said quietly, "what do you know about a 'G. Gaunt' buried on the grounds?"

"How do you know that name?" the headmaster asked.

"Potentially a relative of Morrigan and the suspect, Christopher Mastin."

"Interesting. Yes, she is buried here on the grounds, though I have not been to the site. I meant to find it when the snow melted."

"Did you just learn of it?"

"Yes, in those same letters. Gormlaith Gaunt was the abusive aunt to Isolt Sayre. She came to take Isolt back to London but discovered her with a school, a muggle husband, and children of her own. Gormlaith laid siege to the mansion before her death on the grounds. It is unclear why they buried the wand, but it appears as if it stopped working for Isolt once her aunt appeared."

Harry stood there thoughtfully, gazing at the tree. There was no way of telling what Mastin intended to do with the wand or if he could reactivate it. Presumably, if it was so important, he had additional information regarding its use. He turned back to the headmaster. "If you discover anything else, please let us know."

"I most certainly will."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Upon return to the safehouse, they found Wiggs inside. He was sitting quietly at the kitchen table, waiting for them. When they entered, he stood and met them in the living room. Without speaking he thrust out a folder to Draco.

Harry looked from Wiggs to Draco who wasted no time in opening the folder. Harry moved closer to also read the report over his shoulder. He willed himself not to focus on the body heat he could feel from Draco's shoulder as he hovered near him, focusing on the parchment instead.

"He went to London," Draco summarized. "As Christopher Peverell. Even for him that is a bit heavy-handed."

Harry nodded absently. The Peverell family line was one of the oldest wizarding families, rumored to be the original owners of the Deathly Hallows. Harry had discovered a long time ago that he was a descendent of the family, which was why he possessed the invisibility cloak. "And he worked at Azkaban in the sick ward?" Harry read. "He was the caretaker for...oh."

Draco raised his head from reading, his face going blank. "Lucius Malfoy."

"Up until his death. This explains how he knew what the crime scene looked like."

Draco looked back at the report. "So he faked his own death once he had all he needed from Lucius and returned to the states," he summarized after they spent a few more minutes reading.

Wiggs reached out and flipped one more page for them, pointing. It was a British registration certificate for Christopher Peverell, an animagus. It included pictures of a brown spider. He apparently couldn't escape registering during the immigration process.

"He must have hung onto one of us as a spider," Harry said, resisting a shiver. "Either from the school or from the hospital."

Wiggs nodded. "That was our conclusion as well. We have no traitor that we could detect."

Draco pushed the folder into Harry's hands as he left to go into the kitchen. Harry frowned after him. "Give us a minute, will you?" he asked, glancing between Hedge and Wiggs. They both nodded and went up the stairs.

Harry slowly followed Draco to the kitchen, dropping the folder to the table. He crossed his arms and leaned against the refrigerator, watching as Draco poured himself a drink. "You're upset," he stated.

"Fuck off, Potter," he growled back.

"You're barking if you think this is your fault."

"No, Potter, I don't think it is my fault," he snapped, turning around to glare at Harry as he leaned back against the counter. "I just can't believe my father found one more way to kill people. Even from Azkaban."

"You think he was willing, then? Not legilimency or other means?"

Draco was quiet for a second. "It doesn't matter."

Harry pushed off from the fridge and walked towards Draco, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Yes, it does," he said quietly.

Draco shrugged off the hand. "My father was a more accomplished occlumens than I. I am sure he would have resisted if he was able."

"He was sick, right?"

"Suddenly, yes."

Harry put both of his hands on Draco's shoulders this time, looking up challengingly into grey eyes. "Maybe the Heir poisoned him slowly and took the information from him. Who knows. What matters is that we are going to catch him. You can make up for it."

Draco wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something foul. "Potter, you don't have to console me," he said bitterly.

"Maybe I do. Look, you said some shitty things to me the other day, but you weren't wrong."

Draco scoffed, "What, now -"

"Draco, shut up."

Drac blinked at him. Harry lowered his hands again now that he was pretty sure Draco wouldn't walk away from him.

"Look, I am sorry for my part in all the shit that has happened between us," Harry said, crossing his arms defensively. "Hell, I am pretty sure I have contributed no more than some flashy magic to this whole investigation, and if anything made things more difficult. Especially for you."

Draco raised a silent eyebrow of agreement.

Harry had made the decision to commit to what Wiggs had told him to do, and now was as good a time as any. "But that is not my intent," he continued. "I am going to be honest with you, Draco -"

"Must you?" Draco drawled.

Harry scowled at him. "Yes. I owe you that much." He waited for an objection but Draco remained silent, eyeing him warily. Draco set down his drink, crossing his arms loosely in a sort of this-ought-to-be-good way. "I was scared," Harry said shortly.

"Of what?" he asked when Harry hesitated.

"Of what happened when we were together."

"Oh, come off it, Potter. It was just sex."

"No, it was different. _I_ was different." Harry stared back at Draco with determination. "I felt like a different person and I didn't like it."

Draco rolled his eyes. "So you think because you are some _hero_ you can't cheat on your boyfriend, Potter? It doesn't mean you have some deep, dark inner demon. It just means you're human."

Harry opened his mouth briefly before closing it again, blinking. Somehow Draco had nailed it exactly and brushed it off just as easily.

Draco smirked. "That's it, hm? You thought because you got off on controlling me that you had some dark thing inside you? Potter, you had a horcrux in you, but I hardly doubt you inherited some need for kinky sex from the Dark Lord." He chuckled. Well, he had a point.

Draco rolled his eyes when Harry still didn't answer. "Seriously, Potter? It's just sex. I realize you're the Golden Child, but that doesn't mean you aren't allowed to have fantasies or desires that are a little out of the ordinary. Do you think that because you led such a _sheltered_ and _difficult_ life that now you're irreparably broken, leading you to have this deep, dark, terrible desire?"

"No- Well...yeah, kinda."

Draco threw his hands up. "Get over it, Harry, it's just sex. So what if you get turned on when you hurt me? I get off on pain; it works for both of us. You're not turning into a Dark Lord just because you want to tie me down. What are you afraid of?"

"I can't believe I am talking about this with _you_ of all people," Harry said quietly with a small chuckle.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, you had your dick in my ass not that long ago, so we've been in stranger positions," he said dryly. Harry snorted then started to laugh, the tension dissolving immediately. Draco tried his best to not smile, so he looked away from Harry.

Harry eyed him. "You called me 'Harry.'"

"It is your name, isn't it?" Draco said sourly, crossing his arms again.

Harry smiled at him, uncrossing his own arms and comfortably tucking his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Thanks, Draco."

Draco looked at him, his expression one of mild surprise. "Don't make it more than it is." He pushed away from the counter and walked around Harry, heading towards his room. Harry watched him walk away. He had gone to comfort Draco and somehow the opposite had happened. Smiling a little, he went into his own room, deciding to shower since he hadn't had a chance that morning.

It was strange, what he was feeling. A weight had been lifted somehow, both personally, and in the investigation. It felt like they had made a lot of progress in finding the Heir in the last 48 hours. Attacking all four of them, even with Harry in his weakened state, was a rather bold move, perhaps indicating a growing desperation.

And then there was Draco. Harry felt like Draco had apologized for his early outburst, albeit not in so many words. Although Draco had spurred him before, it seemed clear that he was still interested. But now what?

Harry got out of the shower and dressed slowly in his usual uniform of jeans and a basic v-neck, this one green. He was hungry, and although it wasn't quite dinner time yet, they had skipped lunch. They still had plenty of time in the evening to go back to the Congress to check if they had made any more progress.

Leaving his room, Harry hesitated outside Draco's bedroom. He didn't hear anyone inside, but he also didn't hear anything downstairs in the kitchen. Surely Draco didn't leave.

. . . .. . . . . . . . . . . .. .. . . . . . . . .

Was it 'Harry' now?

Draco sighed with irritation at himself. He had been resisting that level of familiarity for so long it felt odd to call him anything but Potter. But, he had a point, and it had slipped out naturally in his exasperation. Well, Harry it was, then.

Draco looked up when there was a soft knock on his door. He stared at the door, trying to see through it, not sure if he wanted it to be Harry or not. Since he had left Harry in the kitchen, he had been pacing around his room. He felt pent up and restless since their conversation and he wasn't sure what to do about it.

He walked over to the door and opened it. Predictably, Harry stood on the other side, though his expression betrayed he was rather unsure why he was there. Draco's eyes roved quickly over the other wizard, noting his clean but worn clothes, the tension he carried in his shoulders, and the black, messy, wet hair hanging in his bright green eyes.

Without second-guessing himself, Draco reached out and grabbed the collar of Harry's shirt, pulling him inside the door smoothly. His left hand shut the door while the hand gripping Harry pushed him up against the wall next to the door, ignoring Harry's clipped sound of protest. Draco stepped back in front of Harry and pinned him against the wall with both hands gripping his shirt. He wanted to see what Harry would do, so he didn't kiss him, though he was sorely tempted.

Harry maintained the eye contact for an excruciating amount of time before he raised a hand to wrap around the back of Draco's neck, fingers threading into his hair. Draco mentally challenged Harry, testing to see how he would react to their close proximity. When Harry finally pulled him into a kiss, Draco felt a surge of heat in his chest, eagerly matching Harry's force.

A hand gripped Draco's shirt and yanked him to the side, reversing their positions. Draco let out a grunt as his back hit the wall, his hands moving down to remove Harry's shirt. He had barely any time to explore the developed muscles of Harry's back before Harry grabbed his wrists, pinning them against the wall. Harry had never let him touch him before, and while Draco dimly hoped it would be different this time, he didn't mind the restricted use of his hands.

Harry pinned Draco to the wall with his bare chest. He latched his mouth to Draco's neck just below his ear, causing a shiver to go down his spine. Draco shifting his hips forward to press his groin against Harry's. "Let me touch you," Draco said breathlessly.

"No," Harry growled back, silencing Draco with his mouth. Draco wrenched his wrists against Harry's grip more fiercely, catching him off guard so one of the wrists slipped free. With a grunt, Harry took a half step back from Draco, struggling to get both wrists back under control.

Draco smirked into the fiery green eyes, sharp and aroused. Harry shoved Draco backwards with a hand on his chest, pressing him back against the wall. Draco leaned against it, maintaining eye contact as Harry roughly unbuttoned his shirt. Once the shirt was open, Harry was pressed back against him, pulling on the shirt as he bit the newly exposed flesh. "Wait," Draco breathed as he felt the shirt begin to slip off his shoulders.

Harry stopped immediately, pulling back to look at Draco questioningly. Draco's eyes flicked down to his left forearm, hinting at what was covered by the shirt. Harry's gaze followed his, taking a step back. Draco watched as Harry moved both of his hands to the sleeve of the shirt and tugged it off his arm, exposing the Dark Mark underneath.

Draco looked back into the green eyes as they studied the Mark. They didn't dull or widen as they had before, but rather shined with a sharp awareness. He had been surprised by the Mark before, but this time he was able to acknowledge it. The green eyes met his again and they both stood there, breathing heavily for several seconds.

"On the bed," Harry commanded, his voice frustratingly calm and direct, as if he were merely directing a quidditch practice. Stealing a glance downwards as Harry stepped back from Draco, he could tell the other wizard was very much affected by their interaction despite his tone. Draco smirked as he stepped around Harry obediently to move towards the bed.

Harry followed behind him, pushing him to lay down, any point of contact nearly burning Draco with desire. Harry maintained eye contact as crawled over Draco, straddling his hips. Draco moaned as Harry nipped at his neck. He lifted his chin invitingly as his hands were allowed to wander up to hold onto the mussy black hair.

"Draco, I -"

"Merlin, please, no talking," Draco shushed. Harry grinned sheepishly at Draco as the alien feeling of fondness bloomed in Draco's chest. Draco moved his hands to Harry's shoulders as they moved against one another. Only the gentle sound of rubbing fabric and soft gasps filled the air.

Eventually, Draco's hands gripped Harry's shoulders and urged him to roll on to his back so Draco could straddle his hips. He hovered over him, undoing Harry's belt as he kissed down his chest.

"Draco…."

Draco lifted his eyes. "I don't have to use my hands," he purred. He pointedly lifted his hands away from Harry once his pants were opened. He shifted himself further down Harry's body, maintaining eye contact. If Harry did object, he would stop, but he could tell from the look in his eyes that he didn't want him to. "Do you trust me?" he asked, his hot breath whispering over Harry's exposed skin.

"Yes," Harry said hoarsely, biting his lower lip delicately as his eyes closed.

"Don't worry, Potter, I won't hurt you," Draco smoldered. Harry gasped when Draco took him in his mouth, moaning in spite of himself. Draco kept his eyes trained on Harry, enjoying Harry's sounds and shivers as they ran through his body from Draco's touch. Draco had been wanting this for a long time, so he intended to savor every aspect of Harry's pleasure for as long as possible.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Harry sat upright suddenly in bed, panic flaring as his hands moved rapidly in search of his wand. He realized where he was a moment later and looked down at the startled Draco who had also sat up quickly due to his sudden movement. "Sorry," Harry murmured, a subtle blush spreading over his cheeks. He glanced away again and spotted his wand in his pants pocket that sat crumpled on the floor.

Draco settled back down onto his pillow. He watched with half-lidded eyes as Harry stood, modestly turning away from Draco as he pulled on his underwear and pants. Draco licked his lips and smirked. "So are you a Dark Lord now?" Draco teased.

Harry glanced back at him and rolled his eyes. "Hah hah." He buttoned his jeans before facing Draco as he pulled on his shirt. "I was thinking tomorrow we should visit Ollivander and ask him about the Slytherin wand."

Draco let out a puff of air, rolling onto his side to face Harry, strategically exposing most of his naked body. "All work are you, oh, Chosen One?" He waited for Harry to scowl at him due to the epitaph, pause, blush, then resume getting dressed. Draco stood slowly before he released his ponytail from it's binding. He took his time brushing out his hair before tying it up again. "Would he know about how to unlock the wand?"

"Who knows. He might at least be able to point us in a direction. I looked up the author of the wizarding family lineage book but she is dead, unfortunately, so I think this is the best place to start."

"Even if we find out the secret of the wand, we still don't know where Mastin is."

Draco couldn't help watching him, noting the strong grace Harry adopted that was unique to his auror capacity. "It's a start," Harry said, swinging his auror robes around his shoulders.


	13. London Bound

**Chapter 13:** London Bound

Three days later, they apparated to an alley outside Diagon Alley. Harry led the troop into The Leaky Cauldron and was immediately hailed by four or five witches and wizards, all clamoring to shake his hand. He nodded, exchanged pleasantries, and shook hands, always maintaining a forward momentum towards the door to Diagon Alley. It had been awhile since Harry had to deal with constant attention, and he found himself wondering how he had tolerated it for so long.

It wasn't until they reached the more private portal to Diagon Alley that Harry realized he had a protective hand at the small of Draco's back, ushering him through the crowd. It was such a subconscious action, and he chastised himself for not being more aware of it. If people noticed such an intimate touch, it could draw a lot more attention than they were prepared to deal with. Not to mention they had agreed to keep Draco as much out of the spotlight as possible. Draco's hood was drawn up, concealing the tell-tale pale hair, and he made an effort to keep his eyes down.

They were able to get lost in the crowd of Diagon Alley more easily than the quiet pub, this time Hedge walking in front to partially block the view of Harry and Draco. It reminded Harry unpleasantly of an assassination attempt by a former Voldemort supporter in the days after the war. Kingsley forced Harry to tolerate a constant guard in public until he passed his auror exam and was deemed able to defend himself. It had been lonely and humiliating.

Hedge opened the door to Ollivander's and held it open for everyone to enter the quiet and dusty shop once he swept the room. Seconds later, a young woman entered the room, glancing between them until her eyes landed on Harry. "Welcome to Ollivander's," she said with very little welcome. "How can I help the ministry?"

She was a slight woman of average height with dull brown hair. She seemed to lack the distinct spark of intrigue and passion that Harry remembered from Garrick Ollivander, the man who had sold Harry his wand when he was eleven.

"Ms. Ollivander," Harry started, stepping forward, "We were hoping you might be able to help us with some wand lore."

"Well, I am not my father, but I will do what I can. What kind of wand are we talking about?"

"Snakewood, I am unsure of the core," Harry said, tucking his hands in his robe pockets comfortably.

"Unusual material. We do not use it here."

"Why is that?"

"Snakewood is...temperamental. Some say it is stronger than elder, but it is far more difficult to use successfully. Without proper care, a wand made of snakewood could have disastrous effects."

"Such as?" Harry's eyes didn't leave the shopkeeper.

"Depending on the core, it could fluctuate in effectiveness, being very inconsistent for the witch or wizard wielding it," she said, maintaining strict eye contact, her posture straight and pristine. "For example, with a hippogriff feather, one might experience the strength of their spells varying from day to day. Or someone with a dragon heartstring core may produce stronger magic when they experience heightened emotions. It is postulated that some of the strongest magic, second only to the illustrious Elder Wand itself, would come from a snakewood wand. This is all assuming the person crafting the wand was skilled enough in the creation of said wand."

"Are you familiar with Salazar Slytherin's wand?"

"Famously, he made it himself out of snakewood."

"Do you know of its whereabouts?"

"No. I know it was passed down within the family, but it disappeared in the 1600s."

"Do you know anything else about the wand?"

"Just what the legend says."

"And what does the legend say?" Harry prompted.

The shopkeeper eyed him carefully, hesitating.

"Has someone else come asking about this particular wand, Ms. Ollivander?" Draco asked lightly.

"No. He didn't come here. But he did owl me," she said dismissively.

"Who?" Draco asked.

Ollivander shifted.

"You won't be in trouble," Harry said softly.

Shee looked at him scathingly. "I am not afraid of _you_ , Auror Potter."

"What are you afraid of?"

"Auror, I need you to understand that I have studied wandlore extensively, though I am no historian. I will tell you the same thing I told him. As far as I am aware, the wand required a passphrase to awaken. It was said to be in a dead language."

"Do you know who might know the passphrase?" Draco asked.

Ollivander was quiet for a second, watching Draco with narrowed eyes. "I would expect the Heir does at this point," she whispered.

"Is there anyone else you told him to visit?" Harry asked.

She sighed irritably. "I recommended he go to Burke, but also to seek out Thiago Quintana in America."

"He's dead," Draco said, frowning.

"Of course. My mistake," she responded airily, unblinking.

Harry glanced at Draco before looking back at Ollivander. "Did your father use snakewood?"

"As I said, Auror, we do not use it in this family. It would not represent our skills well."

Harry glanced at Draco again, who nodded back to him silently. "Thank you, Ms. Ollivander."

She nodded curtly and swept away as they left the shop. Once outside, Draco turned to Harry. "Why didn't _we_ just owl her?" he asked quietly.

"I want to see a few other people."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"The headmistress and a few professors, for one."

"And Alec for another?" Draco asked with a disinterested tone, his expression unreadable.

Harry hesitated, unsure why he had wanted to keep it a secret to begin with. "Yes. Hogwarts first, however." He watched Draco, wondering if he would be comfortable going back to the school that was likely not to welcome him.

"Sometime today, then, Potter," Draco said dryly, turning to apparate.

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They approached the school via Hogsmeade. Harry had sent an owl ahead to warn the headmistress of their arrival and request a meeting. As he walked up the gravel path, he gripped the vial of Snape's memory in his pocket. He preferred to personally carry it across the ocean instead of trusting it to the risky journey of an owl or other courrier.

As they walked, Draco spoke. "So is it our thesis now that the Heir intends to awaken the wand to use it as his birthright?"

"That makes sense to me," Harry replied. "Who is Quintana?"

"American wandmaker, died over a year ago."

"What makes you think he died?"

"I investigated his death," Draco said. "It was suspected foul play, but we eventually ruled it a suicide."

"How did he die?"

"Poison. Locked in a room by himself. He left a suicide note lamenting the loss of his wife several months prior."

"Why would Ollivander think he was alive?"

"I don't know. He could still be alive and his death an elaborate ruse. I suppose it is possible he took a combination of potions to make himself look dead, but it seems unlikely."

"Once back in America, we should see if we can hunt him down and find out what kind of cocktail it would require to have that effect." Harry suggested as they walked up the steps to the castle. As expected, Minerva McGonagall was waiting for them. She was just as stern and severe as she had been ten years prior, though it didn't look like she had aged a day.

"Professor," Harry greeted, genuinely pleased to see his old Head of House.

"Harry," the headmistress said with a detectable amount of warmth to her voice. She gave Harry a hug. "Mr. Malfoy," she said tightly, nodding to him. "Good to see you."

Draco tipped his head back in response. "Headmistress."

"This is Senior Auror Samuel Wiggs, and Auror Frank Hedge," Harry introduced, each shaking the headmistress' hand in turn. "Thank you for seeing us on such short notice."

"Of course. How can we help?"

"First, I wanted to return this." He produced the vial of silver liquid memories from his robe.

"Very good, Mr. Potter, thank you." She took the vial, storing it in her robe. "And second?"

"I would like to speak with Professor Longbottom."

"Of course. This way." She set off at a brisk pace heading towards the greenhouses that flanked the castle. Harry gazed around the grounds, filled with mostly pleasant memories. He stole a glance at Draco who maintained his blank gaze directly in front of himself. Harry guessed Draco probably didn't feel safe or content at Hogwarts like Harry did. He still considered it his first real home, afterall.

They neared the second years' greenhouse where they had once raised mandrakes. The aurors all waited outside for McGonagall to poke her head in, asking to excuse the professor for a few minutes. Once outside, Neville broke out into a huge smile at the sight of Harry.

"Harry! Good to see you!" he said enthusiastically, giving him a friendly hug and a pat on the back. He nodded at Wiggs and Hedge in turn as Harry introduced them, then merely offered a weak smile at Draco. "Are you back in London, Harry?"

"No, I am still assisting Draco on a case in America."

"Then what brings you all the way out here?"

"I was hoping you could tell us about a certain tree," Harry responded.

"Which one?" Neville asked with interest.

"Snakewood tree."

"Hm. There aren't any in Britain, that's for sure. What do you want to know about it?"

"How would you grow one?"

"Well, it would need a starter, just like any plant. They said they are very difficult to grow and kill."

"Could you grow one from a wand made of that wood?"

"Hm, I suppose. It would be difficult. The wand would have to not be dead, but I suppose if it is only wilted it could still be a starter. The core might also impact it's growing ability. Something like thestral hair would probably not work, but unicorn or Phoenix feather would potentially grow."

Harry was thoughtful for a second. "And if that wand were removed could the wand still be used?"

"If the core remained in tact, I suppose. I am not that familiar with wand-making, however."

"Would the tree die if it were removed?"

"You understand I am only guessing here," Neville cautioned.

"Give me your best guess," Harry said. He trusted Neville to have very educated guesses when it came to anything plant-related.

"Well," Neville said thoughtfully, "if the tree were planted somewhere it wouldn't normally grow, and was kept alive only due to the magic in the core of the wand...I believe it would die."

Harry nodded. "Do you know their natural habitat?"

"Australia, I believe."

"So, the cold New England snow probably isn't it's favorite habitat," Draco drawled.

Neville nodded though he didn't look at Draco when he spoke.

"Probably not. Something tells me Salazar Slytherin's wand doesn't have unicorn hair at its core, either," Harry said with a snort. "Thanks, Neville." They shook hands. "I'll be in touch."

Neville went back inside the greenhouse after he bid the others farewell. Harry turned back to McGonagall. "Is Professor Slughorn available?"

The headmistress nodded. "This way, gentlemen." As they entered the castle, McGonagall spoke: "Why are you asking after Slytherin's wand?" she asked.

"It appears it is a fascination for our suspect. I believe it will lead us to him as he tries to revive it."

"Revive it?"

"Legend says it was intentionally inactivated or wilted hundreds of years ago. A tree grew from it on the Ilvermorny grounds."

"Intriguing. So he was able to extract it from the tree?"

"Yes. Do you know anything about the wand?" Harry asked casually. He hadn't thought to ask the Gryffindor headmistress.

"I will ask Severus' portrait while you are speaking with Horace. I trust you know the way to the dungeon?" she asked.

"Yes, thank you, Headmistress," Harry said.

After she split from the group, Draco looked at Harry with a delicate frown. "How do you know where the dungeon is?"

Harry gave him a small grin. "You brought me there once."

"I most certainly did not."

"I was convinced you were the heir of Slytherin, in second year. So much so, that Hermione brewed a polyjuice potion so Ron and I could turn into Crabbe and Goyle to talk to you. We followed you to your common room."

"Granger brewed a polyjuice potion in our second year?"

"Yeah, she is pretty amazing," Harry said with a chuckle. Draco shook his head, falling into silence.

Thankfully, it was in the middle of the afternoon classes so they encountered no students on their way down to the dungeons. The potions class was just letting out when they arrived, so they loitered outside the door. Harry ignored the whispers that trailed down the hall as the students passed.

"I think I need to talk to him alone," Harry said as the last students filed out, gaping at him. Harry smiled at Draco who was glaring at every student who stared at Harry.

"Why," Draco snapped, looking back at him.

"I need to ask Slughorn a...private question."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's nothing like that. He told Riddle about horcruxes when he was in school, so I just want to ask him if he has talked to anyone else about them. He is rather ashamed about his part in Riddle's successful creation of horcruxes, so I am more likely to get him to talk to me if I am alone."

"I don't like that," Hedge piped up, speaking for Wiggs' scowl as well.

"Deal with it. The professor won't hurt me," Harry said as he turned towards the heavy door leading into the dungeon classroom. Hedge's hand landed on his shoulder, holding him in place as Wiggs entered the room first, looking around. He ignored Slughorn who greeted him with confusion. After he took a good look around, Wiggs nodded at Harry who rolled his eyes before entering the room himself. The auror closed the door behind Harry and stood as a sentinel outside.

"Ah, Harry, my boy!"

Harry smiled at Slughorn as he crossed the room towards him. "Hello, Professor," Harry said, allowing Slughorn to shake his hand enthusiastically.

"You haven't written me back in a fortnight now, Harry! I didn't realize you were back."

"Sorry about that, sir. I am still on a case in America and I have been moving around a lot."

Slughorn nodded, the hand on Harry's shoulder guiding him over to his sitting room. "Well, what brings you back so soon?"

Harry sat across from the Slytherin comfortably. "Actually, Professor, I am here to see you." By now, Harry was very practiced at buttering up Slughorn to get what he needed out of him. "What I am about to tell you is regarding my investigation and it strictly confidential. I must ask for your discretion," he said ominously.

Horace puffed up his chest proudly. "Of course, my boy, I shan't breathe a word."

"Sir, before I tell you anything, what do you know about my investigation?"

"Next to nothing, of course."

Harry nodded. "Your help could be instrumental to my investigation. You see, it appears as if our suspect is trying to become the next Dark Lord. In fact, he has been staging the events that gave me my scar," he said, lifting a hand to touch his forehead. Slughorn's wide eyes followed Harry's hand before looking back into his eyes. "For reasons I can't disclose, I was hoping you, as head of Slytherin house, could tell me about Slytherin's wand."

"Well, Harry, that is quite the question. I read once that the wand was taken to America by a descendant of Slytherin."

"Really?" Harry said, feigning interested ignorance. He needed to give Slughorn a victory so he could build up to his real question. "Well, if our suspect is a descendant of Slytherin, how would he activate the wand?"

"I would assume a _parseltongue_ phrase as Slytherin was a _parselmouth_. It was a very unique ability, even during his time," Horace said importantly.

"Oh," Harry responded, that actually being a new thought. "That is possible, our suspect is a _parselmouth._ "

Slughorn nodded sagely. "It wouldn't surprise me then."

"They say that the wand will be extremely powerful. I am afraid with it he is hoping to create a horcrux for himself. I hate to ask you this, sir, but has anyone else come to you asking about them in the last few years?" It was possible while working at Azkaban Mastin could have come to visit Slughorn.

Slughorn's eyes shadowed and he frowned at Harry.

Harry held up a hand apologetically. "Sir, I hate to bring it up, I know how you feel about this subject. I only do because this may be the break we are looking for. We are just two steps behind the murderer and we are grasping at straws."

Slughorn shook his head slowly. "I am sorry, Harry, but I have had no one ask me about horcruxes since the aurors after the war ended."

"You're sure?"

"Yes," he said resolutely. Somehow, Harry could tell he wasn't lying.

"Well, thank you, Professor, you were a great help," Harry said, standing.

"Oh, Harry, so soon?"

"Yes, Professor, I'm sorry. We have quite the work cut out for us. Please owl me if anything else every comes to mind." He bid Slughorn goodbye and exited the classroom swiftly.

"Anything?" Hedge asked when Harry appeared in the hallway.

"Only the suspicion that the passphrase to wake up the wand could be in _parseltongue_."

"That's an idea," Hedge answered. They group set off to the headmistress' office. It had been too much to hope that they could have gotten an easy lead from Slughorn, but it was worth a shot.

The four aurors stopped by McGonagall's office but found that the portrait of the former headmaster and potions professor had been less than helpful regarding the wand. Disappointed, they left Hogwarts, heading back to London.

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"Welcome to 12 Grimmauld Place," Harry said, opening the front door. He had apparated them all to the front step, aware it would keep them out of any prying eyes of anyone that may have been on the street. It was the safest place for them in London, so they decided to stay there for the duration of their trip. Harry hadn't been there much after he moved out to live with Alec, but it looked as if Kreature had kept it in fine shape.

It was strange to be returning now. It had taken Harry years after he had graduated from Hogwarts to clean out all the rooms in the house. He had discovered all manner of dark creatures and artifacts, the removal of some being rather dangerous. Eventually Kreature had warmed up to Harry, though he still lamented Harry's blood status.

"This is your house?" Hedge asked, looking down the long dark entryway hall. "It… isn't what I expected."

"I inherited it," Harry said casually as he walked down the hall towards the kitchen. "It is more Draco's than mine, really."

Draco raise an eyebrow. "How so?"

"It is the Black family house, from Sirius."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "That's why it looks familiar," he muttered.

"Make yourselves at home. There are plenty of bedrooms upstairs. It's pretty obvious which is mine. Kreature?" Harry ask as he opened the fridge. The old, nobbly house elf appeared a fraction of a second later. "Master," the elf grumbled as if Harry had never been gone.

"Can you make some dinner for our guests? I am going to the Weasley's."

"Yes, Master," Kreature croaked.

"What?" Hedge asked, sounding slightly panicked. "I will go with you."

"That is hardly necessary, Frank. It's Friday night, and I survived at the Weasley's for the past ten years. I doubt they will attack me now. Besides, you are out of your jurisdiction."

Hedge frowned at Harry. "Clearly, the Heir has followed us before. It might not be safe now."

"It's fine, Frank. Take the night off. I am just going to the Weasley's for dinner, but I will be back tonight. Tomorrow morning I am going to see Alec and you _cannot_ come with me then, either. Better get used to it." As Harry spoke, Hedge's frown deepened and Draco turned away as if suddenly interested in a dusty bookcase. "It is just for the day, then we will leave tomorrow night."

"We should at least see the locations so we can apparate there in an emergency," Frank argued. He looked at Wiggs and Draco for support.

"I am going to visit my Mother," Draco said, lifting his chin and turning away to make his way towards the stairs. "Potter can visit whomever he wishes."

Harry watched Draco's receding back carefully before turning back to Hedge. "Fine. But don't spy on me," he admonished half-seriously. "I think we could all use a day or two off."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Harry hadn't told Alec that he was coming back to England. He surprised Hermione and Ron for dinner and had a wonderful night with them, laughing and drinking much like old times. He made Ron promise he wouldn't tell Alec he was in town, planning on surprising him the following morning.

After Hedge had apparated away again, Harry stood nervously on the doorstep of the flat that Alec and Harry had shared. It was normal for Alec to fire-call Harry every Saturday morning since Harry's recovery, so Harry knew he was home. Typically, Alec would be expecting Ron to show up to help him fire-call Harry at about this time, however, instead of Ron being at the door, he would find Harry.

He raised his fist and rapped his knuckles on the door after he felt he had steeled his nerves enough. Harry wasn't sure what Alec's reaction would be to him, but he hoped it would be a pleasant one. He heard footsteps nearing the door and stuffed his hands in his robe pockets nervously.

The door opened. "Hey, R -" Alec stopped and gaped at him a bit uncharacteristically.

"Hi," Harry said stupidly then kicked himself mentally. Before he had a chance to say anything else, Alec stepped forward and threw his arms around Harry, pulling him close.

"Harry! I can't believe you're home! I didn't know you were coming," Alec said into his hair.

"I wanted to surprise you." Harry wrapped his arms around Alec's ribs, smiling into his neck. He had missed the warmth and comfort the man offered. Harry was pretty sure he ran several degrees hotter than was normal.

"Are you back for good?" Alec asked, finally stepping back, but keeping an arm around Harry's shoulders as he steered him into the flat.

"No, we came to interview a few people for the case."

Alec looked a little disappointed. "How long do I get to see you for?" He helped Harry out of his traveling robe and hung it in the closet.

"Just today. We will leave tonight."

"Want some breakfast?"

"Sure," Harry said with a smile.

He sat down at the kitchen table as Alec started moving around the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Harry watched him happily, still charmed by how Alec had to do everything manually. "How have you been?" Harry asked.

Alec smiled at Harry as he started cracking eggs into a bowl. "Good."

"The new restaurant space?"

"Brilliant, yeah. It's a lot of work, but it is going well."

Harry smiled at him. It was strange sitting there again, but it was awkward in the way it was when they first moved in together; they were both nervous but there was a tense excitement between them. Harry didn't feel uncomfortable or unwelcome like he had feared, and he certainly felt like he still belonged. It was like they were dating again for the first time, with those familiar butterflies in his stomach. That said, Alec appeared more relaxed than Harry was, but that was usual. It was a good sign.

At the same time, Harry didn't want to give Alec the impression that he expected anything to happen between them. He wanted it to be clear that his presence didn't change their current arrangement which Harry believed they were both still satisfied with. Simultaneously, he wanted Alex to know he still loved him and did want to attempt their relationship again if it was possible. It was a thin line to walk, but he knew that Alec was not so sensitive that he would jump to the wrong conclusions or get offended too easily.

They shared some small talk for a while as Alec fried some bacon. "Snogged any cute blokes recently?" Harry asked casually after a silence, hooking his elbow over the back of his chair as he leaned back with a smile.

Alec laughed. "No, but that may change soon," he said with a wink in Harry's direction. Harry chuckled, taking that as his cue to stand. He walked up behind Alec, wand in his hand.

"Let me help," Harry said in a low voice, tapping the grater that Alec held with his wand. Alec lifted his hands from the cheese and the grater began shredding the cheese on its own.

"How kind of you," Alec chuckled, turning to face Harry who had deftly tucked his wand back in his pocket. He reached out, taking hold of Harry's hips to pull him towards him as Harry wrapped his around Alec's neck. "Can you cut the onions when you're done with that?" Alec asked with a grin.

"Whatever you want," Harry said, raising up on his toes slightly to kiss Alec. Alec released a small, happy sigh of contentment as he kissed Harry back, holding him against his body. Harry felt a familiar warmth flow between his stomach and his sternum as Alec gingerly touched his lip with his tongue. He felt safe, content, hopeful, and incredibly aroused. When he thought about it now, he wasn't sure why he had strayed from these arms or thought that there was anything to be gained from anger and power. This was where he was supposed to be, where everything made sense.

As Alec wrapped his arms more fully around Harry's ribs, pulling him tighter against his chest, Harry felt all his other concerns melt away. With one hand tangled in Alec's hair, Harry lowered his other hand to unhook Alec's belt, and was rewarded with a gutteral chuckle from the other man. After struggling with the pants for a few seconds, Harry gave up on the belt and resorted to simply palming Alec through the fabric of his jeans. The resulting moan caused Harry to swell with want and need, his mouth now working its way down Alec's neck. Investigations, murders, politics, and suspects were the last thing in Harry's mind, considering them inconsequential and unimportant. Those things would come and go, but Alec was steadfast through all of it; he was all that mattered.

The more passion Harry poured into the kiss, the more Alec returned. His hands were soon knotted in Alec's hair, holding him as they intertwined their tongues. Alec's fingers ghosted up Harry's back under his shirt, seeking the permission Harry had already given the moment he crossed the tile floor. Harry was no longer sure which of them were moaning, but it only encouraged the warmth that spread from the touch of the fingers up his back. Soon both hands were roaming up his shirt, gently massaging the muscles of his abdomen and back.

As he pulled Harry's shirt off, Alec gave him a crooked smile, his cheeks flush. It didn't matter if Alec also didn't expect this development, that was part of what made it all the more exciting. They wasted no time removing the rest of their clothing in between passionate, desperate kisses, as if any time they spent not connected was a waste of time and breath. Breakfast forgotten, the two only got as far as the living room where they both collapsed on the couch ungracefully, Alec kneeling over Harry.

Harry lost himself to the care and devotion of Alec. Alec carefully tended to Harry in all the ways he never knew he needed or wanted. He felt no shame, no sense of regret or time, existing only in the waves of pleasure and ecstasy that flooded his body as Alec pressed into him. Harry couldn't explain why this felt more right than anything else, but he knew when he finally returned to England from America, he would fight to occupy the space next to Alec in his bed.

After he reached his climax, loud, powerful, and relentless, he smiled. The only thought Harry could hold as he descended from the incredible high was this: when Harry returned, if a man occupied the space next to Alec and he wouldn't leave, then Harry would just have to kill him.

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Harry felt better than he had in months. It was difficult to leave Alec after only spending a few blissful hours with him, but he consoled himself in the knowledge that their separation was temporary. The only thing left was to catch up with the Heir before he did anymore damage. That said, Harry had a feeling Mastin would come to them and it was just a matter of being ready when he did. They had to prepare, gaining as much knowledge as possible in order to apprehend him successfully. This meant that their first task when returning to the States was to hunt down this supposedly-deceased Thiago Quintana.

After several relatives of Quintana slammed doors in their faces, the group decided to re-assess their approach to finding the potential whereabouts of a dead man. During lunch, they decided to try the gravesite next, looking for any indication of a recent disturbance or clue. They found the grave in a New Hampshire graveyard, quiet and off the beaten path. The wandmaker had been buried amongst his ancestors, this particular plot reserved for many generations to come.

In the typical New England fashion, it was raining and cold. The four aurors sported hoods and warming charms to keep the chill at bay, but after the time it took to seek out this particular gravesite it seemed to do little good. Predictably, the grave was untouched, no sign of an unearthly upheaval in the dirt. Harry looked around an the gray and wet surroundings, stuck in the nagging feeling that they were missing something. He turned to Draco. "You don't suppose -"

"No, Potter, we are not exhuming the grave," Draco interrupted. "There is no way that would get approved."

Harry sighed, looking back down at the grave. Of course Draco was right, but that was the only way he could think to determine if the body buried there was Quintana or not. "How do we find a deadman?" Harry wondered aloud as he looked up from the grave again and turned his back to it. Frowning, he noticed a symbol carved into the back of the gravestone directly south of Quintana's grave. "Hang on," he said, stepping forward to kneel at the headstone previously facing their backs.

Carved into the stone was a triangle with a circle in the center, bisected by a straight line. It was a symbol Harry knew all too well, that of the Deathly Hallows. It was carved onto the stone relatively recently. Harry traced it with his finger, frowning. This didn't make sense. Slytherin's wand was not a part of the Deathly Hallows.

"Harry," Wiggs said from behind Harry. Harry glanced back at him before looking forward again to see where he was pointing. On the back of several headstones leading away from Quintana's grave were more Deathly Hallow symbols. They sporadically led back down the hill. Harry glanced back at his companions before he set off quickly back down the hill, following the trail of symbols.

"I don't like this," Hedge said quietly. Draco glanced back at him before looking ahead again, keeping pace with Harry. This did smell of a trap, but Harry felt they had no choice but to follow.

As they rounded a small copse of trees, it looked as if the trail went cold before Harry saw the symbol carved onto a tree. This carving looked much more fresh. Harry veered off into the trees, his wand quickly in hand. It was a collection of maybe 15 or 20 trees, though they were bushy and close together. Harry ducked under the branches of one tree and stopped dead in his tracks. The trunk directly in front of him had a small photograph pinned to it. Unable to breath, Harry reached forward, plucking the photo from the bark of the tree. A brown-haired man was pictured, bound and gagged, bleeding profusely from cuts on his cheek and neck. He was struggling weakly against the ropes that held him, looking into the camera with pleading eyes.

Mastin had Alec.

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 **Author's Note:** Let me know if you would be interested in my posting an "Extras" chapter after the epilogue; this would explain what all the spells are, what I made up, what extra characters are actually cannon, and the research that I put into this fic. I combed heavily through Pottermore and the HP Wiki, so I did my best to keep this as close to cannon as possible (obviously ignoring a couple key things, namely the book 7 epilogue). If no one cares, I won't put out the effort, but it sure was a lot of fun doing the research. :)


	14. Slytherin's Wand

**Author's Note** : Here it is! The last chapter and it is a big one. It is followed by an epilogue. Please let me know what you think!

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 **Chapter 14:** Slytherin's Wand

"Harry, you have to calm down," Kingsley said.

"I am calm," Harry seethed. "How did you let him get taken? He was supposed to be under your care."

"The two aurors who were guarding him are still unconscious. Until they wake up, we won't know what Mastin did to them or how he got to Mr. Kowalski."

"That's not good enough, Kingsley," Harry snarled through gritted teeth, stepping closer to the minister who was wreathed in flame. Harry was standing with Hedge in a conference room of the Congress, speaking with the minister through a fireplace. "I want those auror's badges."

Kingsley sighed. "We are doing what we can, Harry. We are taking this very seriously."

Harry stopped himself from yelling back at the minister by turning his back to him. "Let me know what they say when they wake up."

"I will. Good luck, Harry," the Minister responded heavily before terminating the connection.

Harry marched from the room, Hedge trailing behind him. They made their way back to Wiggs and Draco in the main investigation headquarters, a massive room of black and gold.

"Potter," Draco said when Harry neared close enough to hear. "We found the real Ollivander."

"Dead?"

"Yes. The Ollivander we spoke with was likely Mastin under the effects of a polyjuice potion."

Harry swore. "He led us to that graveyard on purpose. Quintana was dead the whole time." They had lapped up everything Mastin had fed them, making them look like fools.

Draco nodded. "He probably followed us most of the time we were in England. As of yet there is no sign of him near your Grimmauld Place, however, so I don't think he risked being a spider on any of our persons."

"Small comfort."

"Indeed," Draco said dryly.

Harry crossed his arms, glaring at the ground. They had discovered the picture of Alec six hours previously and still had nothing to go on. It was maddening, and now there was a very definite time limit on finding his location. The Heir was a fan of prolonged torture, though Harry wasn't sure how long Alec would last without magic to help sustain his life.

Harry kicked the desk in anger, knocking over an inkwell. He angrily flicked his wand, cleaning the mess, and rounded on Draco. "We have to do something," he said both desperately and unproductively.

Draco watched him calmly. He had regarded Harry through this whole ordeal patiently and without his usual cutting tone. If Harry had been more aware of himself, he might have been impressed or thankful, but as it was he was bitter and vengeful. "We are doing things, Potter. Maybe you should go rest," he added with hesitation.

Harry threw Draco a scathing look. "He left a clue at that gravestone, maybe he left more at other locations. We should re-visit all the crime scenes. Maybe his old house."

"I already have some aurors checking out the houses of the 31st Murders to be sure they are safe."

"The cave?"

"That's next," Hedge cut in, glancing at Draco. Harry frowned. "We will need your help compiling a total list of all the possible locations," Hedge said.

Harry gritted his teeth. "Better get a big parchment."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Tell me about the significant Voldemort locations again," Atticus said, clearly struggling to keep the exhaustion from her voice. Draco had long since stopped flinching at Harry's use of the Dark Lord's name, but it was still strange to hear people other than Harry say it. Harry had been around the other Americans enough that they had taken his cue to refer to him as Voldemort or Riddle, the ease of which probably coming from not growing up directly under the threat of the Dark Lord like Draco had.

As the days had passed, Harry became more and more withdrawn and angry. He insisted on combing over all the locations related to the case, retracing their steps. They had no success, driving Harry further into his shell. Harry ate mechanically as a matter of necessity, and managed only fitful sleep. Draco prided himself on his navigation of the other auror's dour mood; knowing his efforts went unappreciated was not something he normally tolerated, but for some reason he was making an exception for Harry. Harry always seemed to inspire exceptions for Draco, which in itself was irritating.

Harry made a low growl of frustration as he continued pacing in front of Atticus. "I already told you. Chamber of Secrets, Riddle Senior's grave, the orphanage, the cave outside the orphanage, the Room of Requirement, Hogwarts in general, Albania, Forbidden Forest, Gringotts vault, Malfoy Manor, Godric's Hollow." He smacked one of the many pieces of paper on the wall with his wand. "And I've already told you about significant people. None of this has helped," he snapped angrily. "We should have checked each location personally instead of trusting some of them to the other aurors. They may have missed something, they aren't as invested, they might not know what to look for.

"Regardless," Harry continued, "Mastin clearly wants me to be there, so he might not even show up if I'm not there. I wish you would just fucking let me leave this building and search -" he cut himself off as Hedge started to make a sound as if to argue, but Harry rounded on him, his wand still gripped in his fist at his side threateningly. He continued speaking in a low, threatening voice. "And don't even fucking argue with me. I know you are making every excuse not to let me go out in the field, saying places have already been searched because I can fucking _see_ the looks that you give me. You think I am not aware that I am not in my full capacity. Yeah, well, I can fucking tell. You don't have to baby me - I am a fucking auror and I wish you would let me do my damn job."

"Potter, that's enough," Draco said coldly, standing from his seat. "This is entirely uncalled for. I know you are missing your muggle, but we are doing the best we can and you know it."

Harry rounded on Draco. "You don't care about Alec -"

"No, Potter, I don't care about Alec," Draco said flatly. He privately smirked at the stunned expression that fell onto Harry's face at Draco's declaration, though he didn't let it surface. Instead, he maintained a hard and steady gaze on the other auror. "I care about catching Mastin and stopping him from hurting more people. Kowalski doesn't matter any more to me than the students that Mastin used, or the families he has already murdered." He crossed his arms in defiance, looking down his nose at Harry. "I would recommend you take the same approach. I am able to maintain distance from this case, which allows me to act rationally and not verbally abuse my co-workers. You have been an unbearable prat over the last few days and have been driving us all bloody insane. If you don't want us to 'baby you,' you need to get yourself under control. You are only doing Mastin a favor by acting the way you are, because right now you are not helping us. At all." Draco had used a cool, detached tone throughout his whole lecture, knowing that if he yelled at Harry like he had wanted to, it would have only made the other man unproductively defensive.

Harry stared at Draco briefly before he looked away, his eyes hard, his lips set in a thin line. "You're right," he managed through gritted teeth.

"Of course, I am bloody right," Draco said with annoyance. "Now, I think we are done for today. We have been here for 13 hours and everyone needs some rest before we resume tomorrow morning."

Atticus let out a sigh of relief, standing. She didn't meet Harry's gaze when he looked over at her, instead focusing on pulling on her outer robes to leave. Draco watched out of the corner of his eye as Harry stepped into her path as she attempted to exit the room. "I'm sorry, Cara," he said quietly.

They exchanged a look before she reached up and patted his shoulder. "It's okay, Harry. I can't imagine what it is like for you."

He nodded once. "I shouldn't let it get to me."

"No one blames you. Get some rest tonight, okay?" she said gently, offering him a friendly smile.

He gave her a half-hearted smile in return as she skirted around him to leave. Draco made significant eye contact with Wiggs before he sauntered up to Harry. "Potter," Draco started, lifting his nose. "We are going to get a drink. You need to relax."

"I don't think that is a good idea," Harry said hesitantly.

"You should know by now I only have good ideas," Draco said dryly. When Harry rolled his eyes, he continued, swinging his cloak elegantly around his shoulders as he spoke. "I am not saying you should get sloshed, just take the edge off a bit."

Harry frowned at him, donning his own robe. Draco could tell he had already won, but he was waiting for Harry to admit it. "Fine," he grumbled finally.

"Brilliant. Now stop being such a tosser. You really do kill the mood, you know."

Harry gave him a reluctant smile, though his eyes remained distant. "After you, Malfoy," he said as he tipped his head down slightly and held up a gallant hand, indicating for Draco to lead him through the doorway.

"So kind," Draco said, lifting his chin as he passed Harry. The four aurors walked in silence down to the lifts, made their way out onto the street and into a nearby wizarding pub.

"First drink is on me, Potter," Draco drawled as he removed his outer robe, securing it to the hook underneath the edge of the bar. He perched himself on a stool, clad in his blue Captain's uniform. Harry followed suit, hanging up his traveling cloak, though he dropped himself onto a stool with a casual lack of grace that Draco found oddly charming.

He noted that Wiggs and Hedge ordered drinks at a distance from Harry and Draco then took up a usual position between the two of them and the door. Since Wiggs and Hedge were facing each other as they sat, one could keep an eye on the two of them, the other could watch the door. They maintained a distance so that any hostile forces might not immediately notice a guard unit.

"What'll it be, gentlemen?" The bartender was a wafey woman with thick black braids piled on top of her head. Her eyes were friendly and warm through layers of dark makeup. Her posture indicated that she was more feisty than she looked at first glance, probably well accustomed to the task of handling herself in a bar frequented by rowdy aurors.

"Firewhiskey. Neat," Draco ordered before glancing over at Harry. "What do you want, Potter?" Draco noticed the bartender's eyes flick rapidly between them, recognition skating over her features briefly though she made no obvious reaction. The woman was good.

"Firewhiskey on the rocks. Double, please," Harry added casually.

She had already tapped a bottle of whiskey with her wand to pour Draco's drink by the time Harry had finished speaking. She whipped out a second glass filled with ice and the bottle began pouring Harry's drink. It was a generous pour, probably due to Harry's name. Draco resisted rolling his eyes as Harry thanked her, immediately taking a hearty swig from the glass.

"You know," Draco started after the bartender moved away, "I would have assumed you loved the extra shit you get because of your name." Emerald green eyes slid over to Draco and held the eye contact as he tipped back the glass and drained the contents. "Shit, Potter," Draco said, raising an eyebrow.

"And what do you think now?" Harry asked quietly, setting back down the empty glass. He looked back over at Draco, eyed fierce with challenge, his lips slightly parted with the hint of a grin.

If Draco had to pick his favorite expression or mood of the other auror, this dangerously confident variation was by far his favorite. It affected Draco in ways that were not appropriate in public, but even so, he couldn't look away. The deep emerald eyes were captivating, the tilted jaw strong and masculine. Draco knew Harry didn't understand how extremely handsome he was, but it was times like this that it worked in his favor. It didn't help that he was in his fitted auror uniform which covered every inch of Harry's skin but still showed off his fit physique. It took all his willpower not to lean over and claim those smug lips, though he knew now was not the time. It almost looked like Harry wanted Draco to make a move on him, what with the way he was leaning towards him.

It was situations like this that Draco wondered if he needed to distance himself from Harry. However, he knew that even if the investigation allowed it, he wouldn't have the willpower to do so. Ever since Harry refused his friendship back in Hogwarts, he had been drawn to the man, even to the point of near-obsession. Even if Harry didn't live in London or have Alec, Draco wasn't sure the two would survive a relationship together.

They would have lots of great sex, though, if this tension were any indicator.

Draco realized he had been staring at Harry, but decided to maintain the steady gaze. He twisted his shoulders to face Harry a little more directly. "I think you need to work on your critical listening skills when I said _not_ to get sloshed," he said loftily.

"You want better company, this is how you get it." Harry chuckled. When he looked away for the bartender, Draco felt like a spell had been broken that drew him magnetically to Harry.

Draco looked down at his own glass and took a healthy swig. They fell into an amicable silence while Harry sipped at his next drink. Draco was aware of Harry glancing at him occasionally, so he made sure all his movements were the epitome of elegant precision. They made small talk for a while until Draco was on his third drink.

"So, you finally figured out I don't like attention, hm?" Harry started after another bout of silence, recalling back to the earlier conversation.

"You like certain kinds of attention," Draco mused. Pleasantly tipsey, Draco turned lidded eyes onto the other man.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Harry grinned at him.

"Newspapers are your favorite, I gather. You're always posing for pictures." Draco smirked before looking back at his own glass.

Harry snorted, cradling his glass in his palm as he looked at the melting ice cubes. Draco watched as Harry's expression turned wistful. He took another drink as if to steady himself. "I know we are close, Draco," Harry said with sudden conviction.

Draco wasn't sure if he was talking about the case or their relationship. "We are," he affirmed carefully.

"You have been surprisingly...brilliant. About everything."

"This shouldn't be a surprise to you anymore." He enjoyed praise more than anyone, so he preened accordingly, lifting his chin proudly with a smirk. Internally, however, he wasn't sure he wanted to know what Harry thought and felt about him.

"I suppose it isn't." Harry smiled. He still wasn't facing Draco, but Draco was watching him in the narrow mirror over the bar. "But I do appreciate...you. You treat me like a normal person."

"That is true. I am sometimes overwhelmed by just how average you are, Potter. I honestly don't see what all the fuss is about."

Harry rolled his eyes though he kept his wistful smile. "I'm serious, Draco."

"So am I. Your fashion sense is abysmal, you don't know how to take care of yourself, and I am pretty sure you are mental with how you seldomly you take your own safety into account."

Harry laughed lightly, causing Draco's stomach to tighten and his chest to fill with warmth at the same time. Oh, he was in trouble. "It's a wonder you even put up with me," Harry said.

"I am glad someone recognizes my struggle."

"Well, you can't say I didn't ever thank you."

"That is true, though you have been so vague, I don't quite understand what you are thanking me for. No one has ever thanked me for talking down to them."

"Draco, I am thanking you because I have been a right shit to you and yet you have treated me like a person. Not someone famous, not like an old schoolyard rival, but...I daresay you might also consider me a friend."

Draco kept his features controlled and let the silence carry for a second after Harry's statement. He wasn't really comfortable agreeing or disagreeing with Harry. Instead, he decided evasion was still the best course. "Are we having a moment right now?" he asked with the same light tone.

"I'm trying," Harry chuckled.

"Deepest apologies."

"Wanker."

Draco opened his mouth to say something else when he heard a familiar voice to his left:

"Hey, Cap."

Draco turned away from Harry towards the voice. "Oh. Hey." Oh, not now.

"Will," the man supplied, pointing at himself helpfully with one hand while the other was in the pocket of his black pants. Instead of sitting, Will leaned against the stool next to him, managing to casually enter Draco's personal space.

"How could I forget," Draco drawled, sipping from his drink with a raised eyebrow. The man must not have noticed Harry sitting next to Draco since he had approached from the other direction. With a quick glance as if looking for the bartender, Draco noted that Harry had turned away from him slightly. He was partially hiding, partially giving Draco privacy. For some reason this irritated Draco, though he knew it was unreasonable.

He turned back to Will as the bartender came over to pour Will a beer. "How have you been?" Will asked. "You've been busy."

"Stalking me, are you?" Draco asked dryly.

"Can't help it," Will said with a grin and casual half-shrug. "You are in the papers a lot."

"How observant." Draco felt conflicted; this man was an easy shag for him, but now was possibly the worst time he could have approached. If Harry hadn't been here, Draco would have already reclaimed their previous stall, but as it was, he had to figure out how to get rid of Will without damaging future prospects.

"Saved any more Harry Potters recently?"

Draco hoped Harry wasn't listening. A comment like that would certainly sound like Draco had been boasting to people about working with him, not to mention saving him. "I thought you were reading the papers," he responded evasively.

"Let's be honest, I just look at the pretty pictures," Alec quipped as he maintained pointed eye contact with Draco over his glass as he drank. Draco smirked, impressed. He was unsure if he had ever seen anyone drink a beer more suggestively than this man.

He couldn't rise to the bait, however. As he opened his mouth to respond, he heard Will utter an "Oh, fuck." He followed his gaze up to the mirror behind the bar. With how Harry was turned away from Draco, one could clearly see the lightning bolt scar on Harry's forehead in the reflection. In less than a second, green eyes also swung up to the mirror and made direct and challenging eye contact with the two of them. Of course Harry had been listening, and of course he was now angry.

Draco realized Will didn't interpret the intensity in Harry's glance as anger since he pushed away from his stool, walked around Draco, and stood between the two aurors. Draco rotated towards Harry in time to see the distinct twitch in Harry's wrist that told Draco he was now surreptitiously holding his wand.

"Evening," Will greeted warmly. "I am a friend of the Captain here." He held his hand out to Harry. "Name's Will."

Draco was impressed when he saw Harry immediately mask his anger with ease. Harry offered a polite and charming smile. "Then we have something in common," Harry offered, shaking Will's hand.

After giving Harry's hand a friendly pump, he sipped his beer. "It looks like I was interrupting; let me make it up to you and buy you both a drink." Will signalled the bartender without waiting for an answer.

"We were just about to leave," Draco said at the same time Harry responded with: "Brilliant." He looked at Harry sharply who stared back at him, that familiar challenging intensity back behind the charming smile. He was definitely angry. It was going to be a long evening.

"So how do you know each other?" Harry asked, leaning against the counter in a way that reminded Draco of Will's suave countenance when he had first met him. Draco assumed Harry had already pieced together what Draco and Will did once they met from the way he spread his knees confidently.

"We met in this very bar," Will responded.

"Yes, it has been a while," Draco clarified, for some reason feeling rather tense about this whole exchange. He kept his features calm and indifferent, however, and hoped that Harry couldn't read him as easily as he could read Harry.

"I felt like we connected," Will said with a wink to Draco. Harry might not have seen it, but Draco didn't think he was so lucky.

"Connected, hm?" Harry asked.

"We had a good time." Will glanced between the two aurors significantly. Draco watched a grin flick over his features, probably picking up on the source of the tension. "I would imagine I don't know Draco nearly as well as you, however," he said to Harry, not bashful about how his eyes raked over Harry's body as if it wasn't clear what he was talking about.

Draco noted the casual shift in Harry's hips that signalled he was very aware of the look. Apparently, British auror training included acting and seduction. This was not something he had seen Harry do before and seemed very out of character. He must be really upset, but Draco couldn't fathom why the small comment earlier would set him off in this fashion. As much as it irritated him, he couldn't help his mouth going a bit dry at the suggestive glance Harry had given Will.

Will must think he is the luckiest bastard in the world, but he has no idea what he just walked into. Draco knew what happened when Harry's temper got the best of him, and Draco didn't want to share that. "You never told me what you do, Will," Draco said. He inwardly cringed at how obvious the change of subject was. "Besides men," he added as an afterthought, hoping that would cover up his desperation but also break the tension.

Both Will and Harry laughed heartily, a sound Draco did not hear often from Harry. He crossed one leg over the other in an attempt to discourage his reaction to the deep laughter.

"Yes, do tell," Harry said, leaning back on his elbow as he shifted again. He had slipped his wand back into his holster at some point. When Harry moved, however, his knee touched Draco's, burning through the layers of fabric where they connected. He left it there on purpose, the bloody tease.

"Construction manager. I organize people smarter than me in building the magical portions of architectural wonders like the Congress."

"That explains things," Harry said, eyes flicking over his body just as Will had done to him. "Like why you wear muggle clothes," Harry added sarcastically. Draco raised his eyebrows; Harry joking, not to mention flirting, was a rare thing indeed. Both men laughed again at Harry's joke, sending signals straight to Draco's groin. At the same time, the jealousy that reared in Draco's chest due to Harry hitting on Will, irritated him more than anything.

Well, maybe not more than the fact that Harry had Will's complete attention instead of Draco. Determined, Draco soothed his nerves, getting himself back under control. He was a Malfoy and bred for this kind of casual banter.

"What were you two talking about before I barged in?" Will asked, grinning over his beer.

"Work," Harry said with a shrug. "How many times Draco has saved me." Draco looked over and found Harry's eyes boring into his. The effect was equally unsettling and arousing.

"What did he save you from this time?" Will asked.

Draco knocked back the rest of his drink. Right. Two could play at this game, then. "A life of loneliness and boredom," Draco said coyly. "Nevermind risking my neck to save him from a murderer or two." He shifted his leg slightly so his foot gently touched Will's leg while still maintaining contact with Harry.

"Certainly doesn't seem to be boring around you," Will said, his brown eyes turning onto Draco. He leaned ever so slightly into the touch.

"He keeps things interesting," Harry agreed, eyes still locked on Draco's.

"Are you any closer to solving your case?" Will asked as the bartender silently returned to refill their drinks.

"You sure ask a lot of questions for a construction manager," Draco mused, raising an eyebrow at him as he lifted his newly filled glasses to his lips. "These matters are quite confidential."

"Maybe I just like to hear you two talk."

"It's the accent, isn't it," Harry asked with a chuckle.

"Can you blame me? Hell, I bet you could read a history book and manage to make it sound sexy."

Draco lifted a menu from the bar near him."Appetizers," Draco read with flourish. "Artichoke Dip. 'A creamy and smooth house-made dip paired with a local artisan baguette toasted to perfection.'". He had glanced seductively at the man next to him over the menu as he read.

Harry and Will broke into deep laughter after Draco's performance, promoting a smirk from the blonde. He raised his chin, looking sideways at Will. "It works for you, doesn't it."

"Damn, you are.…" Will appeared to struggle with words, giving Draco another once-over.

"Infuriatingly beautiful?" Harry suggested calmly. Draco glanced over at him and noted his smile didn't reach his eyes. He looked back at Will. Another point for Draco, then.

"I was going to go with something a little dirtier, but yeah, that too," Will said, chuckling.

It was at that point that Draco realized that Wiggs was now sitting on the other side of Harry, slowly sipping his own drink. He was in his own auror uniform, though he made no effort to make contact with the three of them. For some reason, Wiggs must have felt the need to move closer, and Draco wondered why. Probably got nervous that an unknown person was so close to Harry while he was probably seven or eight shots in, but it irritated Draco that Wiggs thought he couldn't handle it. Arguably he had also had a bit to drink, but still.

Draco returned his attention to Will who was in the middle of asking them about any crazy auror stories. Typical question from a civilian.

"You should ask Draco; he is much better at words and storytelling than me. I am more of a...physical person." Will nearly choked on his drink when he laughed. Harry pounded him on the back with a chuckle, his hand lingering a little longer than necessary after the movement. The two exchanged looks again and Draco felt another strangely protective surge.

"I don't know about that, Harry," Draco responded, drawing Harry's attention by reverting to his first name despite being in a public setting. "I have found your heroic speeches to be rather moving." While he spoke he placed a gentle hand on top of Harry's wrist.

"Nothing compared to how you capture the attention of your Lieutenants, Captain." Green eyes locked onto grey.

"You don't see the near-reverence your Ministry holds for you. Your mere presence inspires them."

"Then we must make quite a team," was Harry's immediate response. Draco didn't know that Harry could smolder, but apparently that was another hidden talent. Damn auror was good at everything.

"I daresay we will be sad to release you back to London once the investigation is over."

"Maybe I will stay here," Harry said argumentatively, tipping his head. He was no longer smiling and Draco had a feeling they had crossed into different territory somehow.

"Maybe you should," Draco responded without thinking. "I am sure we could get you a job somewhere in Congress. Maybe the custodial department is hiring."

Harry grinned and shifted his knee, sliding it further up Draco's thigh. "I would hope for a position in your department. You wouldn't put in an extremely eloquent word for me?"

"I could probably spare a few."

"It sure seems like the Director might need a hand," Harry said with emphasis on the innuendo though his speech was beginning to slur ever so slightly.

Draco smirked, this line of conversation being much more comfortable than actually discussing a potential future. "The Director could probably use a good, strong auror to support him," Draco purred.

"I think we all could," Will cut in slyly. Draco looked at him sharply. He had completely forgotten Will was even standing there.

Draco looked back at Harry. "As I said," Draco said loftily, lifting his chin. "You inspire us all. Even the construction manager."

"Hey, nothing wrong with being a construction manager," Will said with mock defensiveness.

"I meant no offense," Draco said genuinely though he didn't look at Will, once again locked in a staring contest with the other auror. He wasn't sure what Harry was playing at, but he knew he couldn't look away first. His alcohol-fueled libido told him that it was possible to fuck through eye contact alone because he was pretty sure that was what was happening. The knee moved along his thigh again and he suppressed a shiver.

Will cleared his throat pointedly. "Well, I think I am going to head home. It was a pleasure meeting you, Auror," he said to Harry. Apparently he knew when he had lost, Draco thought smugly, pleased that it was likely Will would still approach him in the future.

"You, too," Harry said, forced to look away from Draco to shake the other man's hand. Draco smirked, deciding that meant he had won.

"See you again, Cap," he said to Draco after depositing some money on the counter. Draco responded with his own sultry smile before looking back at Harry.

"Nice guy," Harry said quietly after Will took his leave.

"Quite. Let's go." Draco stood, tossing several dragots on the counter. He grabbed Harry's elbow and began pulling him towards the door.

"Draco," Harry chuckled, stumbling after him a bit more clumsily than Draco expected. He had forgotten how drunk the other man must be. With the slightly stunned look on Harry's face, perhaps Draco had as well.

"You are drunk, Potter, come here." He wrapped his arms more supportively around Harry's waist and braced himself when the weight of the heavier man leaned into him. Draco noticed Wiggs and Hedge follow them dutifully out of the pub.

"Can you apparate?" Hedge asked Draco.

"Of course," Draco snapped. He swayed slightly and his frown deepened. "Perhaps not," he admitted reluctantly with a roll of his eyes. Hedge smiled and reached out, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, and stuck his elbow out for Draco to take.

Once back at the safehouse, Harry swayed dangerously against Draco. Draco felt similar overwhelming nausea that was expected when combining drinking and apparating. "You okay?" Draco asked quietly.

"'m fine," Harry muttered, pushing away from Draco. Draco raised an eyebrow as he watched the other man steady himself then walk calmly up the steps and into the safehouse. Draco followed, having a much easier time walking than the other man.

When Harry tripped on the corner of the sideboard, Draco was immediately next to him, one hand on his waist, the other on his back to steady him. Harry had also grabbed the sideboard to steady himself, and stood there with his head bowed for an impossible amount of time. Draco frowned at the back of his head, tempted to ask if he was okay again.

With surprising speed, Harry twisted around to face Draco. Instinctively, Draco had snatched his hands back from Harry at his movement, his hands remaining raised at his sides as Harry looked down at him. Under the sudden scrutiny, his heart began beating loudly, staring up into the green eyes that frowned down at him. Harry looked deeply conflicted. The anger and frustration that was still evident in his set mouth awakened a deep need in Draco, coupled with the twisted brow and confident stance.

All at once, Harry raised both hands, one to cup the back of Draco's neck, the other rested on Draco's shoulder as he leaned forward to kiss him. The kiss was gentle and contained a massive amount of significance, much more than he had expected. He sighed into the touch, drinking in the warmth that radiated off the other man. Draco was only dimly aware of the other two aurors tip-toeing into the room around them. It shouldn't feel this good to kiss anyone, especially someone who Draco knew would leave him and couldn't love him back.

 _Oh, no._

Draco pushed Harry away suddenly. "I can't do this," he muttered. He skirted quickly around Harry, refusing to look at his face as he practically ran to the sanctuary of his bedroom.

He was stupid. He had tried to avoid this. A stupid drunken kiss finally got Draco to admit something that he had been resisting for so long. Deep down, Draco had known the truth of his feelings when he had seen Harry's patronus for the first time, but he had pushed them away. He had buried that raw, unwanted fact in resentment and the unrelenting knowledge that Harry wouldn't want him. Not like that.

They weren't good for one another. Draco knew this. They couldn't go a week without fighting, taunting, or competing with each other. The damn Chosen One was infuriatingly hot-headed and brash, with no sense of self-care. They lived on opposite parts of the world, _in_ different worlds, and there was no way they were compatible. If Draco was honest with himself, he barely knew anything about the other man at all.

Except for what the rest of the world knew.

But at the same time, that wasn't true. He knew Harry hated himself to some degree. He knew he at one time couldn't summon a patronus, had nightmares, and those terrifying flashbacks. Harry would sacrifice himself for a stranger, and do it gladly. He hated his fame, and wanted a quiet life. He didn't actually hate studying as much as he liked to pretend, and was actually good at his job. Draco knew Harry was jealous of the lives his friends led, but Draco knew that not from what Harry said, but from what he didn't say. He understood his ticks, microexpressions, and could practically finish his sentences. Harry had confessed portions of his history that he had told no one. Did Weasley or Granger even know some of those things?

Draco sunk down onto his bed, rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. He was so fucked. He told himself that he was stronger than this and he didn't need anyone. As much as he repeated the sentiment, however, it didn't work.

Draco was in love with Harry Potter.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Early the next morning, Draco was surprised to find himself shaken awake by a wide-eyed Harry in the middle of the night. "Draco," he hissed. "Remember what Mastin said?"

"What? Potter, go back to bed," Draco said sleepily, pushing Harry away from him.

"Get up," Harry said, pulling on Draco's arm. "Don't you remember? He said Quintana and Burke."

"We had Borgan and Burke's checked and there was nothing of interest there," Draco responded cooly. He did his best not to meet the other man's intensely green eyes.

"No, don't you get it? He just said Burke, not Borgan and Burke's."

Draco's eyes grew wide and he sat up suddenly. "We assumed he meant go to Burke, of Borgan and Burke's."

"There must be another Burke."

"In America?"

"Quintana was," Harry said as he moved away from Draco as he climbed out of the bed. "Maybe a Burke lives near Quintana."

"You think Burke is a person?" Draco asked as he grabbed clothing from his dresser and pulled on a shirt.

"It's somewhere to start."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Three hours later, the group of four aurors stood in front of a map that had been tacked to a wall of their safehouse. It featured the New England area prominently, but had some smaller snapshots of New York City and other major metropolitan areas. There were different colored pins puncturing the paper with little banners floating next to each, labeling them. Red indicated the murders and attacks that the Heir committed and white denoted places of interest such as the cave Harry was held in or Mastin's old house. Green marked the addresses of people named Burke, while blue showed where businesses with Burke in their name were located.

They had so far identified over three dozen families and around a dozen businesses with the name Burke. Draco had already dispatched 125 aurors to the task, keeping regular contact with their Lieutenants via Atticus, his primary representative at the Congress. Even with that many minds to the task, it would still take days to search all the locations and interview all the families.

"We should check in on Atticus," Harry said for the fourth time that hour.

Draco didn't look up from the report he was reading. "She will contact us when she has something."

"I just feel like we are looking about this the wrong way," Harry said impatiently. "What did he say? 'Go to Burke, but also seek out Thiago Quintana in America.' We found Quintana first, which he probably expected, because it was the easiest hint."

"No, we went to Borgan and Burke's first, but he expected that too."

After a long silence, Harry began muttering more to himself than to Draco or Wiggs. Already strained with lack of sleep and an uncomfortable tension between him and Harry, Draco stood from the table. "Tea?" he asked politely as he started to leave the room. He heard Harry mutter a 'yes, please' before he was absorbed back into the map.

Draco walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. He rubbed his eyes with his hand, sighing deeply. He couldn't handle this much longer. The close proximity while awkwardly dancing around each other was not a way to conduct an investigation. They needed to solve this so Draco could be rid of the tempting Head Auror.

Mechanically, he went about making tea, opting for the muggle teapot method over conventional heating spells. He wanted a break from the atmosphere of the living room, and found it much more relaxing to be alone in the kitchen.

A short minute later, Wiggs entered the kitchen to pour himself some already-prepared coffee from the pot. Draco eyed him warily, though he avoided making eye contact with Draco. To their credit, neither Hedge nor Wiggs had mentioned the interaction they had witnessed the night before. He trusted both of them not to report the fraternization, though Draco was relatively sure it would be permissible because Harry was of a different agency altogether. Well, if he had been a normal auror, anyway. The Ministry's Golden Auror was probably an exception to this rule, and might cost Draco his job if word got out he was snogging the Chosen One.

"Draco!" came a shout from the living room. "Draco!"

Wiggs and Draco didn't even look at each other as they went flying into the living room, wands drawn in anticipation. Harry looked over at them wildly but hesitated when he saw the wands. Draco sighed in irritation and stowed his wand again. Wiggs didn't put away his, but he did lower it. "What is it, Potter?" Draco asked impatiently, walking up to Harry and his map.

Harry immediately began speaking in a rushed and excited manner. "I was thinking, 'What if Burke is not a person _or_ a store like Borgan and Burke's. Otherwise he would have said 'talk' to Burke or something, not 'go to' Burke." Harry stepped closer to the map and jabbed his finger on the map. "It's a town!"

Near the Canadian border of upstate New York was the tiny town of Burke. "Very good, Potter," Draco said quietly, leaning in to look at where he pointed. "Let me fire-call Atticus, then let's go."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Unfortunately, Potsdam was the closest town to Burke that any of the aurors had been to. They apparated there, then mounted brooms to make the rest of the journey. It was an hour's flight through the cold New York morning, though thankfully the weather was clear. Burke was a small wizarding village, so they were able to touch down near the middle of town. People bustled about in the market square, shopping and visiting in the crisp New York air. The ground was still thick with snow, all the figures around them bundled beyond recognition.

As they walked through the center of town, passing an old library building, Draco's hand landed on Harry's shoulder. "Found him," he whispered.

Harry turned and followed Draco's gaze. Positioned in front of the town hall was a large statue of Thiago Quintana. On approach, they noted that the famous American wandmaker was apparently born in Burke, New York. The statue was holding a wand up in front of the sun, as if studying it closely. It was clearly modeled after Quintana in his earlier days, young and fit, the appropriate hero for the small town with no other claim to fame.

They all exchanged glances. After a short discussion, they cast subtle glamors over their auror uniforms to look like typical traveling cloaks. Safely disguised as visitors, they marched past the statue, and entered City Hall. Claiming they were simply interested in seeing local lore, they received directions to the preserved Quintana workshop that was available for tours. This seemed an unlikely lead to the group; if Mastin used this place as a base, he surely wouldn't tolerate regularly scheduled tours. But, it was somewhere to start.

It didn't take long to find Quintana's workshop. The front boasted a sign that read 'the Burke History Museum at Thiago Quintana's Workshop.' The next tour wasn't scheduled until 2:30 pm, so they had about a half an hour to kill. Harry subconsciously pushed his hand through his hair as he walked casually through the gift shop of the museum. Although he was facing the merchandise, he was actually watching the people in the store, observing their movements.

It stood to reason that Mastin could have polyjuiced himself into any of the store attendants and they would have no way of knowing. Harry performed several trap-detection spells surreptitiously, looking for any hidden exits or traps in the room. There was no way to dispel a polyjuice potion with a wand, but Harry did attempt to _finite_ any glamours or basic transfigurations on staff members with no result.

Harry watched at Draco glided up to the young wizard standing behind the register. Draco leaned casually against the counter, greeting the wizard. He pushed back his hood and flicked his chin, tossing his white gold bangs from his eyes. Harry could hear Draco speak until he leaned over the counter conspiratorially, mirrored by the attendant also leaning forward with rapt interest.

He frowned when Draco gestured over in Harry's direction. He expected Draco to produce his badge to request help from the clerk in an official manner, but instead Draco motioned for Harry to join him at the counter. Sighing impatiently, he skirted around a vat of fake wands with 'BURKE, NEW YORK' inscribed on them and came to a stop next to Draco.

In a very convincing American accent, Draco spoke to Harry. "I was just telling Craig about our cross country trip to Canada and how we were hoping for something a little more exciting than this museum."

Harry knew he was rubbish at an American accent, so he instead settled with a "Mm hm?" implying that he wanted Draco to continue.

"And Craig here said that what we actually want to check out is this haunted house at the edge of town. Apparently this is just Quintana's workshop all prettied up for the tourists but his _house_ is where all the action happens."

Craig nodded enthusiastically. "I have heard all kinds of weird sounds coming from that house over the last year or so."

"Great," Harry managed.

Draco gave him a look before he turned back to Craig. "Thanks for the tip. We'll check it out tonight." Harry noticed a bill pass from one hand to another in their goodbye shake. Draco steered Harry out of the shop, trailed by their two companions.

It took them twenty minutes to find the house. Upon first glance, it appeared to simply ve a dilapidated old mansion, perched at the end of an empty street. It looked like the type of place at which muggle horror movies would have been made, featuring peeling brown paint, boarded windows, a partially collapsed roof, and a rickety front stoop. A fence around the yard had a sign that read 'FOR SALE - HISTORIC LANDMARK.' The sign looked almost as old as the house and was hanging by only one of the two suspension rings.

Wiggs led Harry, Draco, and Hedge up towards the front door. They quickly realized that the front door boasted several complex traps, much more advanced than your household locking spells. This was Hedge's specialty, so the other three sat to the side as he did his work. It took several minutes to work their way through the traps before they were confident enough to open the door. Once they gained entrance, they immediately formed practiced formations. This time Harry and Wiggs paired to clear the base floor, leaving the other two to take the second story.

The house was in a dangerous condition, making their progression through the house slow. The point person of each pair stepped carefully, keeping an eye out for treacherous floorboards that were all too willing to snap with any weight placed upon them. Piles of rubbish lined the walls, some of it covered by old dust-covered sheets, some exposed to show disintegrating stacks of books and papers. Vermin excrement was plentiful, and cobwebs hung like a thick cloud from the ceiling. Clearly the Quintana family had stopped using this location decades prior to Quintana's death.

Harry and Wiggs entered the kitchen area and Harry gestured silently for Wiggs to check the pantries on one side of the room while he checked the cupboards. When clearing kitchens, it was standard operating procedure to check small kitchen cabinets. It was common for older houses to feature enlargement charms on cabinet spaces, making them dangerous hiding spots for anyone wishing to surprise an auror.

Finding nothing, they approached the sliding pocket door that led into the dining room. The once-grand chandelier sat on top of the antique hardwood table where it had fallen decades before. The candles that once adorned it lie broken, littering the floor. Wiggs checked chairs and credenzas, occasionally flicking his wand with the movements required for various detection spells.

The dining room opened into a grand sitting room featuring windows that spanning the full two stories. Standing in the main room, Harry's eyes followed the exposed stairs up to the second story loft and saw Draco look over the banister. They joined together again at the base of the stairs to head down to the finished basement. Lavish paintings hung the walls in the stairwell, some moving sluggishly with age and lack of upkeep, some frozen as if they were muggle paintings.

An acrid smell assaulted them when they reached the bottom step. While the top floors had undisturbed dust, the bottom floor clearly had recent activity, accessed from a back door. They made their way down a hallway adorned with no decoration, all of it having been stripped and tossed haphazardly into a pile near the base of the stairs. Wiggs slipped in front of Harry, leading the way down the hallway, the first to reach the door at the end.

They exposed a series of traps, resting as Hedge deactivated them over several tense minutes. At one point, all had even donned bubble-head charms as Hedge was forced to trigger a short-term poisonous cloud trap. The person who warded this door had been clearly paranoid; this led them all to believe they found what they had been looking for.

Once the door swung open, they paused before entering the room. If someone had been inside, they would have been alerted by the deactivation of any number of their defensive spells. Wiggs entered first, sweeping to the left while Harry went right. The room was a large laboratory that featured all the signs of someone who was experimenting with combining potions and Dark magic. One side of the room contained a display of knives and destroyed practice dummies. There was a small alchemy set with several unlabeled vials sitting near it, clearly works-in-progress. It didn't take long for Harry to notice an open display case at the end of the room.

On a pedestal rested a thin branch of twisted wood. Harry walked up to it as the rest of the team finished clearing the room. He stared at it, immediately positive that this was Slytherin's wand, the base of it having been cut off where it had grown into the snakewood tree on the grounds of Ilvermorny. It was about 14 inches of dappled and twisted white and redwood, making it clear why this was considered a serpentine wood.

"Potter," Draco said, coming up behind him. Harry raised his hand, checking the wand for traps and determined it safe.

Harry glanced once back at Draco. "He must not have expected us to find this place so fast." He reached out to pick up the wand. Harry immediately knew he had made a mistake when he felt an all-too-familiar tug behind his navel.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Pot - fuck, shit, bloodycocksuckerbugger," Draco rambled off in an unusual outburst as Potter once again disappeared in front of his eyes. If only he had reached out and touched Harry's shoulder. He had wanted to, but held back the impulse due to it being sentimental and inappropriate in the current context. In the future, he reminded himself to just get a bloody leash for the kidnap-prone Head Auror.

He spun to look at Wiggs, making immediate eye contact. "It was a fucking portkey," he snarled. "Let's go. I will send aurors to comb this place. Let's rescue that damn Savior again."

"President first," Wiggs said, frowning.

Draco nodded and they disapparated with a crack as soon as they exited the house.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Harry's shoes hit the ground and he immediately dropped to the ground and rolled, avoiding the height at which most spells were fired. He clutched his wand in his right hand, the snakewood wand in his left. Harry had the fleeting inclination to insist on adding a portkey detection spell into their usual array of safety checks, but the thought left his brain as he looked at his surroundings.

He was in a mountainous valley with the distinct smell of an ocean nearby. There was a soft mist in the air, quickly coating Harry in a thin layer of moisture. It was clear he wasn't in America anymore, likely somewhere in Ireland. It must have been a superbly powerful portkey to have brought him all the way here from America.

He glanced down at the wand in his hand and inspected it. Something about it was off. What he thought to be the base of the wand looked very crudely cut. He frowned, gripped the wand with both hands and easily snapped it in half, revealing a distinct lack of magical core. Not only was it a portkey, but it was a fake.

Dropping the two broken pieces of wood to the ground, Harry looked around again. He was a little disturbed to notice the lack of seabirds in the area, despite being so close to the ocean. Turning around, he noticed a small cottage tucked behind some outcroppings of the valley. He lifted his wand and cast a quick spell on the ground before he crept towards the building. As he approached, he took note of all the possible entrances that were visible.

The cottage looked relatively well kept. It was clearly centuries old, built from ancient timber and masonry, though preserved with magic. There was a small shriveled garden outside the cottage that reminded Harry wistfully of Hagrid's. All the shutters were closed and Harry could feel the magical signature of an anti-apparition charm as he neared the building.

He checked for traps as he approached the door, walking slowly in a battle-ready position, leading with his wand hand. Once Harry was sure the door's wards were deactivated, he waited in front of the door for a few seconds, listening. He heard a whimper and immediately blasted the door open, stepping inside.

"Ah, ah, ah," Christopher Mastin tutted. "Slow down, Mr. Potter. Let's not do something regrettable." He stood in the center of the bare room, Alec held in front of him on his knees. Some sort of detection charm must have alerted Mastin so he could have gotten into position.

Turning his attention to Alec, Harry noticed Alec's wrists were bound behind his back, a gag over his mouth. Mastin held a fistful of Alec's hair, holding him in place. Dried blood coated Alec's shirt and the side of his face, though he otherwise looked intact.

" _Expelliarmus_ ," Mastin said calmly and Harry allowed his wand to fly over to the other wizard. "Now, Mr. Potter, the table next to you holds a potion. I wish you to drink it."

Harry tore his eyes from Alec's and looked over to the side where Mastin indicated. He reached out, picking up a small vial. Alec tried to speak through the gag, making sounds to urge Harry not to take the potion. Harry uncorked the vial. The thick liquid smelled of lavender with a hint of valerian and was dark purple in color. Likely a sleeping draught.

"Don't worry, Mr. Kowalski, it won't harm him," the Heir soothed, petting Alec's head with the hand that held his wand. Maintaining direct and challenging eye contact with the Heir, Harry downed the potion in one gulp, ignoring the muffled shouts of Alec. "That's it. Very good, Mr. Potter." The potion was fast, causing Harry's vision to swim dangerously. It took maybe 15 seconds for him to collapse bonelessly to the ground.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Harry couldn't tell how long he was unconscious. When he felt his senses returning to him, he focused on not giving any indication that he was awake. He mentally catalogued his limbs, checking for anything out of the ordinary. His arms were wrenched behind him to the sides painfully, and it felt as if they were chained around a stone structure of some sort. His joints ached painfully due to his position.

Harry's attention turned to his surroundings. He was on his knees on a cold, damp, hard ground, held up by his arms. It didn't feel like stone or wood, however, though the earthy smell in the air told him it was probably compacted dirt. He could no longer hear or smell the ocean, so he reasoned he was probably underground. Maybe in the basement of the house.

The only sound Harry could hear was Mastin gently whispering, probably to himself as Harry never heard a response. He couldn't tell what he was saying, though the manner in which he was speaking sounded as if he was repeating something like a list of ingredients or something he wanted to memorize. He sounded to be 10 meters or so away from him, though judging from the acoustics, the room was probably not much bigger than that.

Eventually he heard the muffled steps of the Heir walking towards him. He waited until he heard Mastin kneel in front of him, checking to see if he was awake. Harry lashed his leg out, trying to kick the Heir in an effort to get him off balance. He only succeeded in knocking Mastin onto his ass, his wand remaining disappointingly in his hand. It had worked with Carrow, so Harry thought he might as well try with Mastin.

"Tsk, tsk," Mastin reprimanded, standing and stepping back from Harry. As Mastin stood, Harry used the support of the stone behind him to shimmy himself up to stand. Mastin brushed the dirt from his backside, shaking his head at Harry. "I recommend you not do that again or Mr. Kowalski might suffer for it."

"Where is he?" Harry asked, not seeing Alec in the room.

"He'll be along," the Heir said dismissively.

Harry took this opportunity to quickly survey the room. It extended about 10 meters in front of him, and probably only about five meters behind him. He was chained to a stone pillar, one of several in the room that were probably the supports to the house above. The room featured a long wooden work table on the wall to Harry's right, and a series of storage cabinets to the left. Behind him he could glimpse piles of things in the dark, but there was no light source behind him, just the two wall sconces above the work table. "What are you going to do with me?"

"Make you watch, Mr. Potter."

"Watch what?"

The Heir leaned against the makeshift alchemy table. "I want you to watch me kill Mr. Kowalski," the Heir said. "I want to watch what happens to you. What you will do."

Harry glared at him, not rising to the bait. "You already know what I am going to do, Mastin. I am going to arrest you and take you in. You cannot win. Malfoy is probably already on his way here since we were so close to finding you."

"Oh, really. Where are we, Mr. Potter," he asked without the typical inflection of a question. The way the Heir spoke was like he was inquiring via prompt instead of question.

"Ireland."

"Very good. Where in Ireland."

"The ocean was to the west, so likely the southern tip, west of the mountains."

"Impressive," he patronized. "I see your auror training taught you geography and observation skills, but you are still bluffing. I know Mr. Malfoy is not any closer to finding this place than you are of escaping."

"Is this where you tell me your whole evil plan?" Harry asked with a bored tone.

"While the effects may be monstrous, it isn't evil. I have goals, yes, and there may have been casualties, but my aim is greater than just murder."

"That's what they always say. Why did you kill all those people over the last year?"

"I had two missions, Mr. Potter, one you doubtlessly guessed correctly. First, to practice. Second, to get your attention."

"I suppose I have to ask what you are practicing?"

"Your contrary attitude is irritating, Mr. Potter," the Heir said in a dry manner rather reminiscent of Draco. He pushed away from the table and walked past Harry to the back of the cellar. The pillar was approximately the same width as Harry's shoulders, so with each arm flush against the pillar on opposite faces of it, he couldn't twist around to watch the Heir. He craned his neck to try to keep a visual on him, but was unable.

Harry could tell Mastin was walking up a set of wooden stairs, alerting Harry that his escape route was behind him. Not knowing where Alec was worried him greatly. He couldn't see his wand, though he knew Mastin would be too smart to leave it within view of Harry. He looked around the room again as he strained against his bonds, trying to discover a weakness in either.

Several minutes passed before he heard two sets of shoes going down the stairs. That meant Alec was still able to walk, which was heartening at least. Mastin paraded Alec into view, this time his hands bound in front of him though no longer gagged. Alec's eyes immediately found his, and Harry tried to convey all the encouraging and comforting thoughts he could into their shared gaze.

Wand in hand, Mastin pushed Alec's shoulder so he knelt down next to the stone wall opposite of Harry. Mastin grabbed Alec's bound wrists and chained them to the large iron ring on the wall above his head. "Good, now we are all here. Mr. Kowalski, please tell Mr. Potter what we are doing today." Alec looked from Mastin over to Harry.

"It's okay, Alec. I am not going to let anything happen to you," Harry assured.

Alec swallowed. He glanced once more at Mastin before looking back to Harry. "He is going to use you to make a…horcrux." Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Now, you see, Mr. Potter. Once I kill you, I intend to make myself successfully immortal, much like the great Lord Voldemort."

"For being immortal he is rather dead," Harry snapped.

"Yes, but the difference between us is that I have no desire to lead a rebellion to cleanse wizarding society."

"What? They will come after you."

"After I kill you, I have no intention of making it look as if I survived the encounter." Mastin strode forward to his table and lifted a ladle inside the cauldron before he poured the spoonful of the contents lazily back into the concoction. Harry immediately recognized the congealed greyish-green liquid. "Polyjuice," Harry said.

"Once again, you impress me, Mr. Potter. Yes."

"So you will polyjuice me, kill me, trapping me to look like you, and you will escape as me? That potion doesn't last that long."

"Oh, no, Mr. Potter, you draw far too much attention. I am going to escape as the unremarkable Mr. Kowalski here. No one will notice when the no-maj doesn't return to London. After all, I have already faked my death successfully once, and I will again."

"Where is the notoriety in that? What is the point?"

"I am doing all this to succeed at what no other wizard has ever accomplished. I will kill you, Harry Potter, the first of many feats. Second, I will use your death to produce a horcrux so strong that I will live forever. Most fitting, it will reside in our mutual heirloom." As Mastin spoke, he shifted his wand to his left hand and produced another wand, the real snakewood wand. "And once I activate it, I will be more powerful than even the Dark Lord or Grindelwald."

"You don't know how to activate it?"

"I will figure it out. I have time." Mastin held the snakewood wand gingerly, admiring it. "Anyway," he said, directing his attention back to Harry. "I will kill Mr. Kowalski first because I want to know how you react. They say that fear and anger produce the most powerful magic and I want to see what you have to offer since you were able to defeat the most powerful wizard of all time. Considering you now, you must be hiding something." Mastin transferred both wands to one hand and gripped a handful of Alec's hair, severing a clump of hair with his wand. He leisurely stepped over to the work table and stored the hair in a box.

"You don't need Alec, just masquerade out as me," Harry said, feeling the beginning strands of panic. "You can gain my vault, set you up for life. You should leave here as me."

"No, Mr. Potter. I am a good actor, but I don't think I could convince all your companions that I was you." His voice was calm as he took some of the hairs and deposited them in the potion, stirring it.

"You have me, Christopher, let him go."

Mastin didn't respond to Harry, completing the final steps of the potion before ladling some into a set of small potion bottles. "Now, for my last experiment," he said, stepping up to Alec. " _Crucio,_ " he said coldly, raising an immediate scream from Alec as he began writhing in unending pain. Without realizing it, Harry also screamed, straining against his bounds in an effort to escape.

Agonizing seconds later, Mastin ended the spell. "I don't understand why Alecto liked that spell so much," he mused. "It isn't personal enough."

"Christopher, stop," Harry demanded.

"You will have to do better than that, Mr. Potter." Mastin directed his wand back at Alec and wordlessly cast the spell he had practiced on Harry, causing a ripple of cuts to tear up Alec's chest, causing another yell of pain. Blood immediately bloomed on his shirt as his body shuddered. Mastin continued cutting him, his shirt torn to tatters as Alec's voice went ragged. "They say scared children release the most powerful magic," Mastin continued after his long silence. "As adults we learn to contain our emotions and thus our magic."

Harry's chest heaved as he shouted threatening nonsense at Mastin, eyes trained on Alec slouched against the opposite stone wall. Mastin slowly traced his wand along one of Alec's exposed forearms. Blood erupted from the deep gash that etched along the path of his wand.

Harry let out a bark of rage, straining against the chains that held him against the stone column. "You get your fucking hands off him you fucking piece of shit," he snarled through gritted teeth.

"Language, Mr. Potter," Mastin tisked, walking around Alec to his opposite side. He performed the same motion, tracing another deadly line down Alec's other arm.

Harry kicked and spat, his mind overtaken with blind rage. With blood now running rapidly down Alec's arms, Mastin cut Alec's bonds, knowing he would be too weak to run. Alec's arms fell to his side, gravity increasing the rate at which the blood pumped from his veins. Alec lifted his head weakly, whimpering in pain as his eyes fell on Harry and tears formed. "Harry," he whispered, trying to move.

"No, no, you stay there," Mastin commanded, pressing a hand against Alec's shoulder. He had spoken to Alec but his eyes remained glued to Harry, drinking in the sight of his fury.

"Don't touch him you fucking shit," Harry snarled again, blood now dripping down his own arms from his wrists straining against the manacles.

"Harry," Alec said quietly, watching Harry, "I love you."

"Oh, Alec, I love you too. Don't worry, I'll get you out of here," Harry said in a voice that was in stark contrast to the one he had just been using on the Heir, now full of gentle love. They went back and forth, Harry apologizing, Alec telling him not to be sorry, both offering comfort to one another.

Alec's voice grew weak, his head starting to drop. Mastin reached back down, taking a fist full if his hair to lift his head, displaying his eyes rolling in semi-consciousness. "Not long now," Mastin mused with a cluck of his tongue.

" _Vulnera sanentur!"_ Harry let out an extended feral howl, yanking repeatedly at his bonds. " _Vulnera sanentur! VULNERA SANENTUR!"_ Harry bellowed with desperate anger. As he yelled the last portion of the incantation, a sudden pulse of magic radiated out from Harry, washing over the room.

Mastin looked down at Alec and realized the wounds on his arms had begun to stitch back together. Raising his eyebrows, he looked back at Harry as if to study him, relishing in the sight. Despite not having his wand in hand, Harry had managed to cast a difficult healing spell that was known to seal wounds that were even magicked to remain open. Without looking down at Alec, Mastin raised his wand to Alec's exposed neck. Harry renewed his barrage of curses as the Heir placed the tip of his wand on the side of Alec's neck and blood began to trickle.

"Harry…." Alec gasped.

With a loud howl of terrible and perpetual pain, Harry wrenched both his arms forward, dislocating one of his shoulders in the process. In what felt like slow motion, the stone at his back crumpled, pulling apart as if made of tissue. He tore at the chains, pulling them through the dissolving column, lurching forward, raw magic pulsing off of him. He whipped his arm forward, forcibly relocating his shoulder in the socket, likely guided by his magic.

The Heir gasped, flicking his wand without hesitation across Alec's throat, severing his trachea. As Harry barrelled forward, starting from all fours before he could claw his way to his feet, Mastin released Alec to allow him to slump forward. He attempted to _Avada_ _Kedavra_ Harry, but the spell missed. The first trace of fear entered his eyes as he turned and fled from the room. Harry didn't hesitate, flinging curse after curse after Mastin.

"Harry," came a strangled gasp, immediately drawing Harry's attention away from the pursuit.

Harry spun around and bolted to Alec, falling to his knees beside him. He pulled him into his lap, uttering the healing charm over and over. As much as he said it, it seemed to make no difference to the wound on Alec's neck.

Alec gasped again, no longer able to form words. "I am here, Alec. Fuck, I am so sorry." He clutched Alec to him tightly.

"I...lo…" Alec choked out, blood oozing from his mouth.

"No, you're going to be fine," Harry said, pressing a gentle to Alec's forehead. "Shhh, it's going to be okay." He rocked Alec in small motions, kissing his temple. "Please, don't leave me," he whispered desperately.

Harry looked down when Alec didn't respond. "A-Alec?" he sobbed, cupping his cheek. "No, no, no, no," he repeated until he was too wracked with sobs to speak. He let out a desolate wail.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 _Several Hours Earlier_

Draco, Wiggs, and Hedge marched quickly down the hall to the Presidential suite. Draco paused at the desk but Wiggs continued, unabated. Draco frowned, glancing from the secretary and back to Wiggs before following. Wiggs knocked once then opened the door. He stuck his head in first before pushing the door open.

President Fontaine glanced at him and immediately noted his expression. "Excuse me, gentlemen. Something urgent has come up." There was an irritated clamour from the assembled statesmen and women as they stood, though none argued with the President. They cast curious glances at the three aurors as they filed out past them.

"Custa," Wiggs said, moving forward. "Mastin got Harry through a portkey."

"What?" she snapped. "You said this wouldn't happen again."

"Harry is...difficult to predict."

She snorted humorlessly. "Fine. I believe this qualifies as an emergency." She walked around to her desk and pulled out a parchment. She passed it to Wiggs who unfolded it quickly. He raised his wand and touched it to the parchment. " _Invenio_ Harry Potter," he said clearly.

Black ink began swimming across the surface of the paper. Illustrative waves danced across the paper as landform outlines blossomed, shifted, and faded under more waves of ink. Draco recognized the suggestion of the east coast of America pass off the paper, filling it with wave after wave, then Africa appeared briefly, followed by Spain, France, the greater European continent, before the map finally settled on the British Isles. The map swirled, zooming in on Ireland and finally the southern coast.

"A tracker?" Draco asked.

"That is very illegal," Hedge whispered, also amazed. Apparently, like Draco, he had also been kept in the dark.

"Yes, well, after the first debacle, we couldn't lose him again, now could we? We placed the tracking charm on him while he was in the hospital, just for an emergency such as this," the President explained as she lit the paper on fire with her wand, destroying the ability for others to be able to track the Chosen One.

"Why did you know?" Hedge asked Wiggs who didn't respond and instead just looked at the President.

She sighed. "It was his idea, actually."

"You are not a regular Lieutenant, are you?" Draco repeated quietly. He had asked Wiggs this before, but now it seemed even more true.

Wiggs glanced at Draco and opened his mouth to respond until Fontaine rested her hand on his arm. "You know how your British Ministry has their Unspeakables?"

Draco nodded cautiously, watching Wiggs carefully.

"Well, Samuel represents a similar force within our government."

"I have never heard of them," Draco replied.

"Then he is doing his job," she said. "And without having to _obliviate_ you, that is as much as you will know. Do not make me regret my confidence in you, Captain Malfoy."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Auror Hedge?" she asked, looking for the same commitment from the other man which she promptly received. "Very well." After slipping on a single white glove, she turned around and opened a glass cabinet behind her. Within the cabinet were a series of shot glasses from various countries around the world. With her gloved hand, she picked up the glass labeled 'London.' She set it down on her desk in front of the other three.

"A portkey."

"To England?"

"Yes. Extremely difficult to make a portkey for so far away, so these are reserved for emergency situations such as today. The Minister will know you arrived. Good luck, gentlemen."

The three nodded, arranged themselves and touched the glass simultaneously. Once the navel pull subsided, they found themselves in the waiting area outside the Minister's office. The door flew open and the Minister stormed out. "Custa?" Shacklebolt paused when he saw the three of them. "Where is Harry," he asked darkly, marching up to them.

"Southern tip of Ireland. We have to go. Now," Draco said.

"Follow me." Shacklebolt turned, sweeping down the hall. "Cancel my appointments," he told his secretary as Shacklebolt walked past quickly. "Get Ellis and McDarrow and tell them to meet me in the apparition room with five brooms," he told another aide who immediately ran off towards the lift.

They passed through a couple doorways as they recounted to Shacklebolt what led up to Harry's second capture. He listened silently through their trek. Once they reached his private apparition room, they only had to wait about a minute for the two requested aurors to run into the room. Kingsley quickly introduced everyone to each other. "Mr. Wiggs, you have been to Ireland, correct?"

"Limerick, sir."

"Very good. Off you go."

The four other men reached out to touch Wiggs' arms, prepared for side-along apparition. They landed and wasted no times mounting their brooms to head southwest towards the ocean. Wiggs explained it was about a two-hour flight, though there was little they could do to speed it up.

The journey was torture. Not only was it misting and grey out, with a biting wind, but they could see the mountains surrounding the valley that was their ultimate destination. Draco had been to Dublin with his parents before, but never this far west. If he had been here under any other circumstances, he would have enjoyed the view and maybe the journey, but as it was, he couldn't wait for it to be over.

He was worried about Harry, and found no shame in admitting that at least. It will have been four or five hours since his capture when they would reach the other side of the mountains, and who knew how long it would take to find him from there. They couldn't get a more precise location on the map, so they were just going to make due. They knew he was in a valley, and they knew that Harry was resourceful.

When they finally crested the mountain range, all five men began scanning the ground for signs of Potter. They passed small valleys and cliff-faces, well beyond the closest town. "There!" McDarrow cried, pointing further south east. Sure enough, there were four large letters carved into the wet dirt: HERE.

Putting on a burst of speed, the aurors closed the distance to the field and noted the nearby cabin. They dismounted, tossed their brooms to the side, and sprinted towards the nearby house.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

He was alone now. Harry felt his heart shrivel and shrink, dissolving into his stomach. The pain was so great, his body shook. His vision was gone, his hands were numb, the only sound was that of his shuddered gasps for air. The room grew dark, the air grew cold. Time stopped and the world stood still.

The only person who had anchored his life was gone now, dead because he dared to love him. Alec was a compass, the keystone that Harry would collapse without. He was steadfast and confident, proud, and brave. He had loved Harry, not because he was the Chosen One, but because he was _Harry_ , and Harry knew he would never find that again.

He felt hope drain from his heart, wilted and jaded. He knew he would find no joy in the comfort of others. Nothing remained in him by the time his breathing stilled and his eyes had dried. He could have been there for hours or days, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Alec was dead.

Harry gazed at Alec. He wanted to remember the wave of his hair, the way that he laughed. He wanted to remember the wounds on his arms, the pain in his eyes, and the love on his lips. He wanted to remember the blood that covered his chest and filled his lungs. He was perfect to Harry, beautiful, haunting, and lost. Although it was Alec who lost his life, it was Harry who was now dead.

All goodness and innocence was banished from Harry, leaving an empty and aching husk. He felt the now-empty well fill with anger and bitterness, frustration and fury. He could not bring back the dead, but he could take revenge for it. A cold determination filtered into his being, fueling him to stand and leave the room.

Eager magic lapped at his heels as he glided up the stairs, neither hurried nor concerned that he would be too late. He saw the world in black and white, all color drained from the surroundings in his emptiness and emotional destitution. He was the walking dead, marching towards the only comfort that his anger and lost love could afford: retribution.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Draco and the other four aurors had Mastin pinned down. They had trapped him in the main room of the cottage as he was attempting to escape. Mastin was a skilled wizard; he was able to fend off attacks from five sides, though it was clear his desperation was growing as he couldn't indefinitely keep the barrage at bay.

As they dueled, Draco felt an odd sensation tugging at him from the right. It was like a buzzing in Draco's ears, slowly growing louder as the seconds dragged on. He felt an itching sensation on his skin, and a light sweat cover his brow that wasn't from effort. Draco wasn't the only one affected; all the others in the room were ill at ease and distracted, including Mastin. With odd synchronicity, all six combatants halted with their wands still in the air and looked down the hallway that contained the doorway to the cellar.

The gravity in the room reduced and time seemed to slow. Harry emerged from the stairway and entered the room, calm, determined, and looking like death. His eyes were red, his face streaked with tear tracks, his skin a sickly palor. Draco could immediately see that the green eyes he had come to know so well were just as bright as always, but they held a mutinous lust that sent a shiver down his spine. Those eyes were directed at the Heir, and Draco did not envy the attention.

Power and profound loss radiated from Harry. The light around him seemed to bend, causing a distorted halo that lightly obscured anything behind him. Draco knew that only the greatest of wizards or those who met with great trauma were able to wield wandless magic such as this. It was beautiful and terrifying to watch as Harry's magical shadow seemed to grow, extinguishing all light and sound in the room except for that which he radiated.

Mastin remained planted where he was, defiant, but also fascinated. He didn't appear afraid, but rather like he was watching a dangerous experiment. He met Harry's eyes unblinking, standing from behind his cover. Harry took a few more steps forward before his magic surged again, shattering nearby windows and shelves. He didn't speak, but raised his hand.

In a flash, Mastin sent a curse flying at Harry who deflected it easily. They began a volley if quick spells before each were locked in sustained beams of radiant light, Harry pressing forward. It was clear that Draco and the others were to stay out of this battle, just as it had been clear at the Battle of Hogwarts. The Heir was much stronger than the average wizard, which included Harry in his natural state. Draco knew Mastin could not have matched the Dark Lord in his abilities, but he was not surprised to see him struggling with Harry as he was now.

With a flourish, Harry directed their locked spells into the ceiling, causing the roof to cave in partially. A great whirlwind began circling around the room, tossing debris dangerously. As if gripped by a terrible force, Mastin was lifted from the ground. He was pulled towards Harry like he had a hook around his waist, coming to stop in front of him. He was a tall man, made taller by Harry holding him a few inches off the ground. "Why," Harry asked in a whisper that echoed loudly in Draco's ears.

Mastin appeared to have trouble speaking at first. "I told you before, Mr. Potter. I want knowledge, I want admiration. I want to be immortalized in love and fear. I want to be a lord god, drunk with power and understanding. I want you, Mr. Potter, and whatever power you are now wielding. I want your torture and suffering so that I can observe it and discover how your magic works. You are an anomaly, Harry Potter, and I want to study your terror and anguish.

"I will continue to kill, Mr. Potter. You will have to kill me to stop me," the madman finished, staring hungrily into Harry's eyes. Draco frowned, hesitantly stepping towards Harry. It was possible the man would seek death-by-auror to avoid his crimes, egging Harry into murdering him.

Harry listened quietly to Mastin before he flicked his wrist, sending Mastin careening off to the side. The man let out a guttural cry of pain, undoubtedly suffering broken bones as he hit a wall before collapsing to the ground. He stood despite his injuries, brandishing his wand at Harry, initiating another flurry of curses. Mastin was severely wounded, however, so it wasn't long until Harry's _expelliarmus_ overpowered Mastin, causing his wand to go flying. Harry caught it deftly, and with no hesitation snapped it.

Draco inwardly cringed, realizing that breaking the wand would mean they could not use it to detect previous spells cast, but that seemed of little consequence compared to capturing the man alive. He watched as the man writhed in the air, gasping for breath as a thick, gel-like substance began to swirl around Mastin. His body was quickly encased in an invisible sphere containing the sloshing gel.

"Harry," Draco said warningly, hoping Harry didn't have the intention to kill the man. Surely he could remember they needed him alive to atone for his crimes.

Harry slowly looked over at Draco, physical effort and emotional exertion straining his darkened features. Both of his hands were held in front of himself as if wrapped around a ball, controlling the shape of the magic that contained Mastin, constantly rotating them.

"We need him alive," Draco said gently.

"I know," Harry said with effort. What Draco saw in his hollow green eyes was unlike anything he had seen before. It was terrifyingly unfamiliar from the normal green spark. Draco looked back at the bubble as the gel seemed to solidify slowly, trapping pockets of air as they moved through the form. The sphere was an incomplete, frozen marble, suspending the Heir inside with an air pocket positioned conveniently over his mouth, much like a bubble-head charm.

Draco looked back to see Harry leaving the way he came, his power finally ebbing like the shore after a passing storm, mutinous but quiet. Mastin was contained and left for Draco and the others to escort back to the Congress. Draco glanced back at Wiggs and the others. "Hedge, McDarrow, help me with Mastin. You two, see to Potter." Draco didn't even have to finish his sentence before the two aurors we're sprinting towards the stairs to follow the grieving man.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The next few days passed in a daze for Draco. After leaving the valley cottage, Draco and Hedge were forced to go back to America ahead of Wiggs and Harry. Wiggs was determined to stay by Harry's side to the end, for which Draco was grateful. Ellis and McDarrow, aurors who clearly had history with Potter, escorted him with clear adoration and respect to a degree Draco had not seen before from subordinates. Harry was clearly valued by those at his ministry in a capacity that went beyond his status as The Boy Who Lived.

Before Harry returned to America to see through with the conclusion of the investigation and trials, he insisted on burying Alec. From what Wiggs later told Draco, Harry dug the grave for Alec manually and buried him somewhere private. Draco knew he would never ask Harry where the grave was located. Even though the two had grown into some kind of friendship, he felt sure that was a confidence he would probably never earn.

Once Harry returned to America, Draco wasn't sure what he expected from Harry when he stepped foot into the Congress. Draco was sitting in his austere and orderly office with the door open. He looked up to see Harry enter the large room outside his office that housed dozens of aurors' desks. Wiggs was close behind him as usual, his face unreadable as always. Today was the first day of the Mastin hearing, determining the course for the rest of the trial.

Draco watched as Harry was stopped by Atticus and a few other aurors they had worked closely with during their time tracking Mastin. He studied Harry's face as he smiled and shook hands. If he hadn't known better, this appeared to be the same man who had walked into the building seven months prior, completely at ease in his formal crimson auror robes, grinning and shaking hands. Despite what Draco expected, Harry was freshly shaven, smiled easily, and had a healthy color to his skin. He was handsome, no doubt about it, and looked as if he couldn't be healthier. Draco supposed he had expected Harry to be pale and despondent. Apparently, this was the Savior of the Wizarding World in his element, charming and put-together. Or at least Draco surmised that was what Harry expected the public to see; he already knew Harry was a good actor.

As if aware of Draco's scrutiny, Harry raised his head and locked eyes with him. Draco immediately felt exposed, disarmed by the intensity of Harry's green eyes. When Harry broke their eye contact, Draco realized he was holding in his breath. He released it quietly, looking down at the files on his desk.

He didn't look up again until scarlet robes entered his peripheral vision. Draco glanced up once before he stood, setting down the quill with which he had been writing. It had only been three days since he had seen the black-haired wizard, but it felt like months. He suddenly felt unsure about how to greet Harry. They studied each other for long moments before Draco raised his hand and held it out to Harry. "Welcome back, Head Auror," Draco said with a cool tone.

Harry's head tilted ever so slightly to the side as he studied Draco. Stubbornly, Draco kept his hand out, waiting, though he arched a delicate and questioning eyebrow. He began to fear rejection before Harry raised his hand to take Draco's. However, instead of shaking his hand, he pulled Draco towards him and wrapped his arms around him. Draco blinked, surprised.

In the past, they had maintained a very professional attitude towards each other whenever they had been in the presence of other aurors or in the Congress, their last kiss aside. Whenever in public, they tacitly returned to the use surnames and titles. They certainly never hugged in public. Once Draco got over the surprise of the strong arms around him, one around his shoulder, the other around his ribs, he raised his own arms and wrapped them around the shorter man.

"Thank you, Draco," Harry whispered and Draco blinked. Deciding that this was just fine, he tucked his nose into the soft skin of Harry's neck and nodded against him, wordlessly accepting his thanks. Harry was warm and strong, imbibing an immediate sense of safety for Draco within his embrace. Merlin, he had missed this.

They parted after a few more seconds and Draco tugged the panels of his navy blue coat down to straighten his appearance. He cleared his throat, hoping Harry couldn't read on his face how much the embrace affected him. "How are you?" Harry asked quietly.

Draco inclined his head slightly. "I am well. You?"

"Fine."

Draco nodded a greeting to Wiggs who entered the office to stand behind Harry. "I wasn't sure if you were going to make it today."

"No way I would miss it," Harry stated with flat determination.

Draco simply nodded. "We are due in court shortly. Do you need anything before then?" Harry had already provided an official written statement to be used as testimony against Mastin while he was in England. His personal testimony wouldn't be required until much later in the trial, but he made it clear he wouldn't miss any part of the proceedings he was allowed to attend considering he was to be a key witness.

Harry shook his head. "I'll just be glad when this is over," he said quietly.

Draco looked down to straighten a stack of papers on his desk, stalling while he tried to decide how to ask his next question. "Where are you staying?" Draco asked with as much disinterest as he could muster, not looking up at Harry.

"The President invited me to stay here in the Congress," Harry said with a sigh, clearly not pleased with this arrangement.

Draco lifted his chin to look down at Harry. "I have a guest room. My house-elf serves breakfast at 6 am, and dinner promptly at seven," he stated matter-of-factly.

Harry blinked at him, opening his mouth briefly before closing it again. He searched Draco's eyes with a slight frown, making Draco begin to regret his offer for Harry to stay with him. He maintained the tense eye contact until Harry's face broke into a disarmingly sincere smile, causing Draco's stomach to twist upon itself. This was probably a mistake, but regardless, he felt a significant measure of relief at Harry's smile. With effort, Draco kept his features controlled. "The accommodations will probably not compare to the Manor or a Presidential suite, but you are welcome -"

"That would be brilliant," Harry said, still smiling warmly.

Draco nodded once with clinical finality. "We should probably get to the courtroom."

"Lead the way, Captain."

Draco took the front as they walked down the hallway towards the lift. As they went, auror after auror joined them until they were surrounded by a silent crowd. The group completely filled the lift, and when they exited, the mass of green-robed aurors formed around them as a protective escort. It was as if they were defending Harry, Draco, and Wiggs from the waiting reporters as they crossed the open lobby. They could hear the barrage of questions shouted by the reporters, though they never suffered a camera thanks to those around them.

"Harry Potter! What do you think Mastin's fate will be?" one reporter shouted.

"Is it true that you two were related?" shouted another.

"Draco Malfoy! What is it like to be on the same side as Harry Potter?"

"Mr. Potter, can you comment on the events in Ireland?"

Draco felt an odd sense of pride and gratitude for his aurors as they ushered him and Harry safely into the lift, untouched by the starving press. The crowd stayed with them until they reached the courtroom at which point they saluted or nodded and dispersed silently. Draco glanced at the stone-faced Harry, trying to get a reading on him to no avail.

They sat quietly in the courtroom until the side door opened and Christopher Mastin was brought in. Somehow Mastin seemed to know exactly where Harry was sitting and made immediate eye contact with him. Draco felt Harry stiffen next to him, but Draco was sure that Harry did not shy away from the sustained eye contact. Mastin had the gall to declare himself not guilty and under the effects of the imperius curse, all the while taking any opportunity presented to hold eye contact with Harry.

The hearing went by quickly and - surprisingly - uneventfully. No bail was granted and Mastin was sentenced to await trial in jail. They were to reconvene on the following Monday. As the court was dismissed, Harry stood and left the courtroom quickly, though Draco and Wiggs stayed right behind him. Draco knew Harry well enough by now to be able to tell be was clearly seething, despite his efforts to mask it.

A few aurors came up to Harry and Draco to speak with them as they stood in the hallway outside. Draco noted a Malfoy-esque level of control for Harry, maintaining a feigned civility and professional interest in those he spoke with, almost as if he were completely fine.

"Let me take you to my house. I have to return, but you needn't be here," Draco said quietly into Harry's ear, after the latest pair of aurors' moved away, a hand on Harry's arm.

At first it looked like Harry would argue, but he shut his mouth, his jaw flexing. He nodded once, and gestured for Draco to lead the way. Wiggs stayed close behind Harry as they made their way down to the lobby. Reporters were waiting, but Wiggs and a few other present aurors held them back until they were able to get outside. Draco told Wiggs he would get Harry home safely before he returned. Wiggs nodded, turning to head back into the building once he heard the crack of their successful apparition.

When they landed, Harry immediately dropped his hold on Draco's arm. By this point, Harry's anger was nearly palpable around him and it was beginning to make Draco nervous. He lived in a small West Virginian house on the quiet edge of a neighborhood. It was peaceful, their particular cul-de-sac surrounded by trees giving it some semblance of privacy. Draco led Harry up the steps to his front door and tapped his wand on it to permit their entrance. Draco opened his mouth to say something as he closed the door after Harry, but when he turned around to face the man, he hesitated.

Harry was standing with his back to Draco, just two steps from him, his fists clenched and his head bowed. Draco could tell the man was probably near tears from his posture and the way in which his back hitched with each breath. What Draco didn't expect was for Harry to suddenly let out a furious howl of anger, raising his arms to let a flurry of spells flow from his wand, igniting and melting every surface in front of him. The kitchen was destroyed in seconds.

"Harry!" Draco yelled, concerned that the second floor would collapse. Draco reached forward, grabbing Harry's wrist to turn him around. He was met with green eyes ablaze with righteous anger as Harry threw a clumsy punch at Draco which he managed to dodge by side-stepping. "Harry, calm down!" Draco snapped, reaching out to grab Harry's flailing wrists.

With an angry growl, Harry twisted away from Draco, freeing his fists so that he could pound them on Draco's chest. They struggled for a few seconds, Draco trying to still Harry's movements, Harry trying to hit Draco. Eventually, Draco realized he wasn't strong enough to restrain Harry. Desperately, he flung his arms around the grieving man's shoulders, holding him tightly. He did his best to restrict Harry's movements by pressing him against his chest, pinning one of Harry's hands in between them.

After one more violent attempt to escape, Harry tipped his head back to look up at Draco. When their eyes met, Draco watched the fight drain from Harry's face. The green eyes, once full of a terrible swell of emotional anger and fear, waned and transformed into true and utter loss. The tears held back in his rage were released, cascading down his flushed cheeks. He completely ceased struggling and let out a guttural moan. Draco's hands held both of Harry's shoulders while Harry's hands balled into fists on Draco's chest.

Harry sobbed again, weakly slamming a closed fist against Draco's chest. Draco pulled Harry towards him, moving one of his hands up to get lost in the messy black hair at the back of Harry's head. The tears began to flow freely now as Harry leaned into Draco, pressing him against the door at his back. Harry's back curled defensively so he could tuck his face under Draco's chin. Harry shook, his breathing ragged and choked with sobs. Draco gently pet his hair with one hand, the other wrapped around Harry's shuddering back.

Draco looked down when he noticed movement on his periphery. Tawny, Draco's house-elf, was looking at him with baleful eyes. He was wringing his hands as he glanced between Draco and the kitchen with serious concern. Draco nodded towards the kitchen, and the house-elf took this as the permission he needed to get to work repairing all the damage Harry had caused.

Draco sighed, holding Harry's head against his collar as the man finally grieved. He had clearly not taken the time to stop and process what had happened and Draco knew that it wouldn't all be resolved today. He had heard Harry's recount of the events in that cellar before Draco had arrived and it was no small wonder that it had partially shattered Harry. He had so few people in his life who cared about him for reasons other than being the Chosen One, Draco could understand what a blow this must have been.

As Harry's breath began to steady, Draco surprised himself by rocking him slightly and whispering unintelligible words of comfort. Draco found himself wondering if it was possible for someone to love him as much as Harry had apparently loved Alec, but quickly stymied that train of thought. Currently, there was only one person he wanted, and now, more than ever, he knew it wasn't possible.

"Draco."

He blinked, pulled from his thoughts to look down at the man in his arms. "Yes?"

"...Don't leave me."

Draco wasn't sure why, but he knew that even though it meant certain torture, the last thing he would ever do was leave Harry Potter. "I won't."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 **Author's Note** : There it is! I think my second favorite part to write was Harry unhinging after Alec's death. Hopefully it wasn't too flowery. Let me know your thoughts!


	15. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

 _May, 2010_

"Harry, it is good to see you," Hermione said, hugging Harry tightly before sliding gracefully onto one of the benches. They had picked a quiet muggle pub at which to meet so Harry could avoid the wizarding press. They had been doggedly following him since he had returned to London the previous week. The Mastin trials had finally come to a close in April, fittingly near the one-year anniversary of Alec's murder.

"Hey, mate," Ron grinned, hugging Harry with a couple of hard affectionate thumps to the back. He deposited himself onto the bench next to Hermione.

"Thanks for meeting me on such short notice," Harry said with a smile, sitting down opposite them. "How are you two doing?"

"We are great," Hermione said, reaching over to Ron to rest her hand on his. "How are you holding up?" she asked.

Harry felt a brief twinge of irritation at her concerned expression, but the waiter appeared to take their orders, effectively halting their conversation at that point. They had come to this particular pub many times before, so they all ordered without even considering the menu. "I heard you had some good news, Hermione," Harry started after the waiter had left, intentionally ignoring Hermione's previous question.

"Hermione was just promoted," Ron said eagerly. "To apprentice undersecretary for the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot." Ron grinned at Hermione who smiled back.

"That's brilliant, Hermione," Harry said enthusiastically. "Moving into the Wizengamot, huh?"

"The chief undersecretary kept coming to ask her questions over the past year so finally decided to hire her instead of making the trek up three stories every twenty minutes," Ron said with a chuckle.

Hermione lifted her chin in pride. "I am starting next week." Suddenly the familiar glint Harry knew all too well from school flashed in her eyes. "Did you know that they have never actually documented how many Wizengamot members there are out of concern for their safety? The number of members is never consistent either."

Harry grinned as he tuned out Hermione's lecture on the history of the Wizengamot. He had missed sitting here, across from his friends. When he lived in London, they had weekly dinners and lunch dates regularly, especially once Hermione started working in the ministry. It used to be one of his favorite times of the week. Occasionally, Teddy or Alec would even accompany him, and those tended to be the best nights.

Harry looked down, stung. He wondered if he could return to that usual routine, knowing that it would never been the same as it was. How could he live in this city without Alec? The thought was suddenly terrifying and paralyzing.

The arrival of their meals was a welcome distraction from Harry's thoughts. He always ordered the shepherd's pie in the past, and looked down at it sitting in front of him. He told himself he didn't feel nauseous and that he used to love this dish, so he had no reason to hesitate. After a few bites, he found he was able to successfully keep the food down, but it definitely didn't taste as good as it used to.

As their conversation moved away from the Wizengamot, Ron began to tell Harry about some new products he and George were developing. They had finally perfected the extendible ear for law enforcement use, and had received a contract to develop a few other surveyance instruments. Harry was genuinely happy for them, but he couldn't help feeling left behind. They were moving forward in their lives, constantly for the better. That wasn't to say it would always be like that, but it left Harry feeling even more hollow.

Before Harry had gone to America, he had held a clear understanding of his path in life. He knew that after he moved up a few more ranks in the next ten years, he was en route to becoming the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. But somehow that life, as well as the lives sitting across from him at the table, felt distant and strange. Just two years ago, it seemed so perfect at the time, though Harry knew he had been unhappy in a different way.

But he also used to have Alec by his side.

Harry's eyes fell on Ron's thumb that was gently stroking the back of Hermione's hand subconsciously. Suddenly the empty space next to Harry on the bench felt oppressively large. He shifted. He had his two best friends with him again. He should have been able to pay attention and care about what they were saying, but he couldn't bring himself to even meet their eyes.

Instead, he found himself thinking about when he told Draco he had been unable to summon his patronus. What would be Hermione and Ron's reaction if he had told them everything that what had happened in that cave? Ron would have been likely confused, Hermione would have probably given Harry a helpful book he would never read. Both would look at him like he was broken and unable to take care of himself, and likely would have even blamed themselves for not recognizing that he was unhappy. He found himself resenting that even his best friends had expectations for his performance and his abilities.

Draco didn't.

"You okay, Harry?" Hermione asked suddenly, interrupting Ron's recitation of the latest Cannons quidditch game. He snapped his jaw shut and frowned at Harry who didn't look up from his hands.

"I am moving to America," Harry blurted out quietly.

"What?" Ron and Hermione both said at once.

"President Fontaine offered me a job." In truth, Fontaine had offered the job several days ago, but Harry hadn't been sure he wanted to take it until now.

"That's great," Hermione said, reaching across the table to place her hand on Harry's arm. He looked up at her, attempting to smile.

"Why?" Ron asked as if stung.

"I...can't be here." Harry glanced at the empty space next to him on the bench as if that would explain it. "I thought enough time had passed."

"You...miss Alec?" Hermione asked gently.

Harry's eyes snapped up to her in irritation, but he managed not to snap at her. What she said was true, but it made him feel weak. "People don't recognize me in America as often. I don't have to hide in muggle pubs," he said. It was true, but it wasn't the main reason.

"What is the job?" Hermione asked as if trying to correct her mistake of bringing up Alec.

Harry was able to smile more honestly this time. "I am supposed to say I will be a sergeant, but let's say that my actual position is 'Unspeakable.'" In truth, he would take over the department Wiggs secretly worked for, but he couldn't say that to even Hermione and Ron. Everything else aside, Harry really did like working with Wiggs. He was genuinely excited to become Director of the Underground Department, the American version of the Department of Mysteries. Instead of Unspeakables, the Underground aurors were affectionately known as Forgettables by the few American aurors who knew about them. Most of the Congress didn't even know about the secret department, making the reason for their nickname obvious.

"That's great, mate!" he said, clapping Harry on the shoulder. His smile turned to a grin with Ron's enthusiastic response.

"When do you leave?" Hermione asked.

"In a week, I guess."

"Where are you going to live?" Ron asked.

"Er, I don't know." He didn't want to admit that he had only made this decision in the last ten minutes. "I will probably ask Draco if I can stay with him," he said with hesitation. He considered hiding it from them, but knew they would find out eventually.

"With Malfoy?" Ron asked incredulously. "Didn't you get enough of him during your investigation?"

"As it turns out...no," Harry said with half a shrug. "We were...pretty good roommates."

"You don't want your own place?"

"I...don't think so," Harry said, shaking his head as he realized this to be true. If sleeping alone in Grimmauld Place for the last week was any indication, he was pretty sure he couldn't sleep in an empty house anymore. Harry hadn't realized how he had taken comfort from knowing Draco, Wiggs, or Hedge slept in a room nearby. Now he just had to get Draco to agree to it. "Anyway, he's not so bad."

"He's Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed indignantly.

"He's been there for me," Harry responded a bit more waspishly than he intended. "I didn't mean it like that," he added hastily when he noticed the hurt look on Ron's face. "I just mean that...we get along now, is all." It helped that Draco knew exactly what Harry had gone through over the last year, and did not walk on eggshells around him like Ron or Hermione. Harry would never tell Draco to his face, but he now considered him one of his closest friends and confidants.

"If you are sure," Hermione said uneasily. "We will miss you."

Harry's expression softened. "I will miss you guys too, but America isn't that far away," he offered hopefully.

"What about Teddy?" Ron asked.

Harry frowned. It was unfortunate that Harry would miss out in the last summer before Teddy went off to Hogwarts. "Andromeda said that he could visit me during at least one of the school breaks."

"That sounds great," Hermione said supportively. "Once you are settled, we would love to come visit."

"Thanks, Hermione, that would be perfect."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 _April, 2011_

"Are you sure?" Draco asked.

Harry finished cleaning his glasses before pushing them back up on his nose. "I am sure." He pushed a hand through his hair, one indication that he wasn't actually sure. Draco decided to take him at his word and nodded.

Draco tucked the thin scarf he wore closer to his chin, better positioning it under his robe. When Harry lifted his arm, Draco rested his hand lightly on the proffered elbow without hesitation. Bracing for the crack of apparition, Draco tried to imagine where they were going. It occurred to him that he knew very little about Harry's life between Hogwarts and when he joined the investigation, so he had no hint as to a their destination. Draco also wasn't one to pry into what Harry didn't want to share, but hopefully Harry wasn't expecting comfort in their journey. He should know by now after living with Draco long enough that sympathy wasn't Draco's greatest strength.

When they hit the ground, they were standing at the base of a small hill surrounded by trees. An old fence comprised of two roughly split wooden cross beams circled the area and led down to a small cottage at the end of a gravel road. Farmland extended beyond that, leading to a small village in the distance. Other farm cottages dotted the gently rolling hills in the opposite direction, though that view was largely hidden by the small copse of trees surrounding the hill.

"Where are we?" Draco asked, impressed with the country beauty.

"Ireland. That cottage was where Alec stayed when he was under auror protection," Harry said, indicating towards the nearby cottage.

"You buried him here?"

"Yes. I bought it not long after we moved in together in London. I planned to surprise him with it when...well, it doesn't matter now," he said with a sad smile.

"It's beautiful," Draco whispered. It was quiet except for the birds who flitted amongst the trees. Draco turned back towards the hill to see Harry already climbing towards to a small tree growing at the top. He followed him, glancing around to find a gravestone. They walked about the tree and Draco finally saw the small headstone.

P. KOWALSKI

MY ALEC

Draco stood next to Harry for a long time, silently staring at the small stone. He frowned, unwilling to look at the man next to him.

"Thank you for coming." Harry's voice was quiet.

Draco nodded once. "I am sorry." It felt dumb to say it, but Draco didn't know what else to say.

"He was wrong, you know," Harry said after a silence.

"Who?" Draco asked, looking at Harry.

"Mastin," Harry said, not looking back at Draco. "He told me he wanted to see me angry. He said anger made the most powerful magic."

Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry. They hadn't spoken about that day since the trial. "Doesn't it?"

"No. Tom Riddle didn't get that either. I was angry, yes, but that wasn't where my magic came from that day. It was the same thing that my mum used to save me when I was one."

"Love?" Draco asked, feeling silly as he said it.

"Yes. Dumbledore was right. It is the strongest form of magic, one that people like Riddle and Mastin can never understand. I know you were probably afraid I would've killed him, but I couldn't have. Not with that magic." He shook his head slowly as he spoke.

Draco nodded and looked back at the grave. "You are a very strange wizard, Harry Potter."

They were silent for a second before Draco felt a warm hand take his, threading their fingers together. He looked over at Harry sharply, surprised.

Harry chuckled lightly and gave Draco a disarming smile. "Let's go home."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 **Author's Note:** That's it! Please let me know what you thought! For my first attempt at a fanfic, I feel pretty good about it, but I am kind of glad that it is done. :X

Let me know if you want an "Extras" chapter that will contain background information on the story. Research I did, a couple deleted scenes, what was cannon, what wasn't, spell translations, that sort of thing.

Thanks for reading!

 **To the Reviewers** : Thank you to **Anne** and **Aerind** for the lovely comments! I am glad you both enjoyed the story and couldn't put it down. I had a hard time putting it down as I was writing it!


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